Life With Bulma and Vegeta
by hope-is-4ever
Summary: Two incredibly stubborn people thrown together by an offer and fate. What kind of adventures will they have along the way? Set in the three year gap period.
1. Lunchtime

Author's disclaimer: No. DB is not mine and will never be...*cries*

I've been feeling quite inspired since starting to watch DBS, hence this little fic. I have about six chapters written. At this point I plan on keeping the material light and just a bit funny. Maybe something more serious in the future...

Chapter 1 – Lunchtime

At first he wasn't an issue. Vegeta trained all day, and slept at night, like a normal creature. It was only recently that he started to live in the capsule twenty-four seven, training at odd times. If they didn't take food to him every meal, none of them would ever see him.

His solitude and unsociable behavior at first rather grated her. Here they were practically rolling out the red carpet for him, and he goes and ignores them!

It was about three days into this new regiment she was off work and offered to take Vegeta his lunch. Bulma felt a little guilty that she had been the one to offer the man their home, but her mother was the one who was really looking after him.

With helping her father with his experiments and trying to run Capsule Corp, she wasn't around as much as she would have liked.

So here she was, leisurely strolling across the grounds, the large cart of food she was pushing piled high.

The trip was made easier by the concrete pathway that was installed from the backdoor of the home right around the building to the capsule.

Bulma looked with pride upon the huge smorgasbord. If nothing else, her mother was a terrific cook. Not even the jackass was able to find fault with it, though he did with everything else.

She learned quickly that he was a rude jerk.

Bulma grumbled to herself, remembering all of the insults he made about inferior human technology and their physical weaknesses.

Their verbal sparring usually turned into all out screaming matches. Whenever they were in the same room it was inevitable that an argument would start between them.

The young woman chose instead to avoid him, her work schedule going a long way toward helping that along. Yamcha and his wandering eye was enough man drama for her to handle without throwing a jerk prince in the mix.

In a way this self-imposed exile was in her favor, so she let his rude behavior slide.

She turned one last corner and the capsule loomed above her. Before she even made it to the entrance she heard the sound of intense training coming from within.

She stopped the cart and stepped forward, knuckles gently rapping on the cold metal door. "Vegeta?"

Patiently she waited for about a minute for the noises to cease. When they didn't she felt her usually short temper flare up in frustration. The man had excellent hearing, as did Goku. There was no way he could have missed her knock and call.

That meant he was ignoring her on purpose, the jerk.

This time Bulma used a fist and pounded hard enough to make her hand hurt.

From within the sounds suddenly ceased. With a sudden swoosh that caught her off guard the door slid open to reveal Vegeta's glowering face.

"What?" he barked, a vein waiting to burst on his forehead.

His attitude immediately grated on her already frayed temper.

"What do you think, jerk! I brought you lunch!" She stepped aside to display the cart laden with food waiting at the bottom of the ramp.

He snorted, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Where is the other woman?"

Bulma clenched her teeth, reminding herself that punching him in the face wouldn't help the planet.

"My _mother_ isn't your personal slave. Her life doesn't revolve around making and bringing you food."

With a hiss through bared teeth he stepped aside, wordlessly indicating she should bring the cart in.

Huffing and mumbling about bad manners, she tried to do just that.

There was just a tiny problem. While easier to maneuver on flat ground, the cart was impossibly heavy to push up the ramp. Her muscles groaned in protest as she alternately pushed and pulled at the cart, but every time the damn thing went only a few feet before sliding back down.

What was even more infuriating was the ass leaning against the doorway, a cocky smile on his smug face.

Oh, he was definitely enjoying watching her struggle, which only made her more determined to get the damn thing inside. Unfortunately her muscles weren't up to the task.

Confused as to how her mother was able to accomplish this three times a day, she threw her hands up in the air. She glared daggers at the Saiyan. "Fine! I give up. You can just eat out here for all I care!"

Still with that same annoying grin, he trudged down the ramp, and with two fingers pulled the damn thing into the capsule as easily as if it were a toy.

Stupid Saiyan strength! She inwardly shouted. And a bubbling rage rose to the surface as it became clear how the cart got in every meal time. He must have been the one to do it, not her mother.

The jerk just wanted to see her squirm as she failed at the task. She felt like a volcano was about to explode inside her body.

Oh why couldn't this alien have been as nice as Goku?

Stupid her and her stupid offer! She should have just given him a small shuttle and told him goodbye and good luck. But noooo. She had to offer her house to him as well.

Wishing for nothing more than a good wall to bang her head against, she turned to leave, before she really let her temper get the better of her.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" His deep and smooth voice washed over her like a cat scratching on a chalkboard.

Her every nerve on edge, she turned slowly back to face him.

He was standing in the doorway, an empty cart held in front of him.

She stared, positive that not even he could eat all of the food that fast.

His look changed to disgust at her confusion, which further ruffled her feathers.

"From breakfast, you idiot." With a small push the cart came careening down the ramp. Going way too fast for her to even think about grabbing it, instead she sprang out of the way, landing face first in the grass.

Behind her she heard the contraption crash against the sidewalk. Sitting up, she saw that the item was now on its side, two wheels spinning in the air.

Breathing heavily from more than adrenaline, she slowly turned back to the Saiyan.

With a bored look he still stood in the same place, arms crossed over his wide chest.

Patience was now a foreign word to her mind. That, and self-preservation. Getting to her feet, she walked toward him with long, angry strides. She didn't hesitate at all as she invaded his personal space, something he always made clear was out of bounds to intrude upon.

She raised one hand, fire in her eyes.

He didn't have a clue what she was planning. That was his only excuse for not dodging or stopping her.

The man couldn't even believe it had happened, but the painful sting in his cheek told him otherwise.

He brought one hand up to the inflicted area in disbelief.

The earthling had actually struck him, and right in the face! While her pitiful strength meant nothing to him, it was the principal of the matter that caused him to see red.

Bulma took that small delay to come to her senses and realize exactly what she had done, and more importantly, to whom she had done it to.

Suddenly feeling very small and afraid, she took a step back. The motion jolted him out of his shock and he reached for her with both hands, gripping her upper arms with painful intensity.

She whimpered as his fingers bit into her soft skin. Even with those white gloves he always wore, she could feel the imprints of each individual digit.

With a jerk he brought her face right up to his. Those coal-black eyes bore into her own aquamarine.

His voice was a low hiss. "The only reason you aren't dead is because I don't have time for Kakarrot's stupid sense of misplaced pity."

Bulma paled at his words.

"Your death would cause me more trouble than it is worth or you would be speaking with King Yemma right now instead of me." When she didn't say anything he gave her a shake. Gentle for him, but she thought for sure her bones were going to rattle apart.

"Do not _ever_ do that again. Do you understand?"

Her nod was quick and empathetic.

Unceremoniously he let her go. Like a wet noodle she fell on the metal ramp and unable to stop herself, rolled to the bottom.

There came a whoosh as the door closed and by the time she had collected herself enough to look up, there was a dead silence in the air once more.

This was the _last_ time she was ever going to bring him food, she promised herself.

He could starve to death for all she cared.

With a huff she rose to her feet, dusting off grass and dirt.

Now that Vegeta was out of sight the young woman was feeling reckless.

So Bulma flipped him the birdy.

Too bad he chose that moment to reopen the hatch, the now empty lunch cart being dragged behind him.

This time she could see veins popping up on both sides of his forehead.

Thank goodness not even Saiyan looks could kill or she would have been blasted to the nearest planet.

"Uh..."

This time Bulma didn't have a chance to dodge the cart careening her way.

The metal hit her square in the legs, causing her to go flying through the air with a sharp cry of pain.

Eyes squeezed shut she braced herself for the inevitable impact of hard ground.

A tug on her shirt and she felt herself stop in midair.

Opening one eye and then the other she found herself staring inches away from the concrete path.

Her brain scrambled to make sense of what was going on, eventually coming up empty.

Tilting her head, she beheld spandex clad legs and followed them up passed a well-muscled chest to a familiar glowering face.

One of his hands was fisted tightly about her shirt, easily holding her weight.

Before she could form anything to say he wordlessly let her go.

"Ow..." The rough surface of the sidewalk bit into her bare legs and hands.

A sudden shifting next to her and the current bane of her existence knelt down one on knee beside her broken body. His face shifted down to hers and she froze in shock.

He was so close Bulma could see her reflection in his black eyes. Their noses were almost touching.

"You try my patience, woman."

His hot breath fanned over her face as she stared at him with wide eyes. She had half expected his breath to smell like a banquet, but no, he had to have great smelling breath.

Against her will, Bulma took notice of his aristocratic nose and handsome face.

His skin was unblemished. The man probably never had a pimple in his life.

"Test me again and damn to hell the consequences."

The young woman blinked at him, getting the message loud and clear. Or at least the rational part of her brain did.

The irrational, temperamental part was inwardly telling her to do something incredibly stupid.

Those lips that said such cruel things were pressed together in agitation. Even as cracked and dry as they were, they were full.

There was a brief struggle between the rational and irrational, and it was one of those not-so-rare instances in which the rational side lost.

She closed the tiny distance between them as their lips pressed together.

His were surprisingly soft against her own. For a long moment they were unmoving. Then came the tiniest of pushes as he deepened the intimate contact.

An electric current seemed to flash between them, pleasantly jolting her body.

Unfortunately the shock also brought her back to reality.

Bulma reared back as if struck.

Not giving the man a moment to end her life, she jumped to her feet, making a mad dash for the house.

Not until she reached the inside of the building, the door firmly closed behind her, did she remember to take a shaky breath.

One hand slowly reached up to touch her quivering lips.

She had just kissed the most dangerous creature on the planet, hell, practically the entire galaxy!

Bulma closed her eyes and groaned, face awash with embarrassment.

But the worst part was she very much wanted to do it again...

The Saiyan watched her run away without a thought of stopping her.

She had dared to touch him so intimately. Him! The prince of all Saiyans!

He should just kill her and end this stupid charade.

Something fluttered in his chest at the thought and he quickly pushed the annoying feeling aside. What he couldn't dismiss as easily was the way his own body had reacted...

He growled low in his throat, thoroughly annoyed at her and himself.

Screw it, he needed to blow something up.

Getting to his feet he quickly walked into the pod.

With a flick the gravity and bots started back up again, only to meet a grisly end a few minutes later.


	2. Helping Out Dad

Disclaimer: No, I don't claim to own this story, characters, etc, in any form whatsoever.

The next chapter. To make sure I don't get through them too fast, I will be posting about once a week. That, and I am _the_ slowest writer in history.

Chapter 2 – Helping Out Dad

Bulma made good on her promise to avoid Vegeta.

She hadn't seen the Saiyan in over two weeks, and was very intent on extending that time. She did feel a pang of guilt over her mother taking care of him, but her own pride injured, Bulma felt a burning rage whenever she even thought of him.

For all of those involved, it was better that she didn't see him. She would probably just get into another fight with him anyway...Their personalities were too alike for them to coexist for longer than five minutes without an argument springing forth.

Of course, there was always the option to kick him out, ending all of her troubles, but the possibility was discarded as soon as she thought of it.

The young genius was a woman of her word. The had extended the offer, and wouldn't back out now. Still, that didn't include being forced into his company, of which she was doing a rather good job of avoiding.

Unfortunately one rather very large wrench was thrown in her plan.

She was looking through a magnifying glass, carefully soldering together a circuit board, when the door to her lab opened. The metal made a soft whooshing sound that echoed faintly off of the walls.

Taking a moment to look away from her project, she saw her father, along with his usual black cat perched on his shoulder, shuffle in. He looked about the large room curiously.

Her area was strewn here and there with an assortment of projects in various stages of completion. The table tops were littered with tools of all kinds. Even the floor hadn't escaped being covered in her work.

Miscellaneous parts were piled up in the corners, ready for her to pluck whenever she might need them.

Pushing up the goggles she wore, Bulma turned off and put down her tools. She gave her father her full attention, a smile lighting up her face.

As much as a scatterbrained scientist that he was, the young woman still adored the man. He was always there whenever she needed any type of encouragement with a new project.

Even when she wanted to travel the world searching for the Dragon Balls, he was behind her all the way. Her mother wasn't so sure, considering her age, but Dad was behind her one-hundred percent.

She was a young woman with her own mind, one who could take care of herself, she remembered him saying.

Since that moment Bulma tried to do everything she could to make him proud of her.

Her father was slowly making his way toward her. The black cat stared at her with its usual blank gaze.

Curious what brought him here, she started off the conversation. "What's up, Dad?"

He smiled, idly reaching up to scratch the cat's ears. "I was hoping you could help me out with a new project I'm starting."

As if she could ever deny him anything. "Sure. What is it?"

The older man shuffled a little, his eyes looking anywhere but at her.

Bulma sensed that whatever he wanted, she wasn't going to like, and he knew it. A sudden dread started in the pit of her stomach. Recently the only projects he was working on revolved around a certain temperamental Saiyan.

"Well, Bulma dear," he began, "I was hoping you could lend me some of your genius in designing some new robots for the lad."

It was almost funny how her parents believed that Vegeta was an innocent, good young man. They treated him as a regular guest, rather than the homicidal alien his past had been. In a way their naivete was frustrating, but at the same time Bulma felt rather proud that her parents were so open to people.

The purple-haired man shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment. "He's destroyed all of the ones I've made with ease and demands that I make more. I know you have a lot going on, but you have always been so good with robots that this shouldn't take you long."

Bulma would rather have eaten dirt. But, put in such a flattering way, there was no other option but to tell him yes. "Sure, Dad. I'll just look over the specs and see what I can do."

He scratched his head. "About that. The boy has some very specific ideas about what he wants. I figured it might be best if you spoke with him."

Oh, that was the absolute last thing she wanted to do. Not only was the man unpleasant, but she really couldn't face him after stealing that kiss.

For all she knew, he might blast her on sight.

Still, Bulma couldn't exactly tell her father why she was so hesitant. While always bold and promiscuous, she just couldn't admit to him that she had sexually assaulted their guest.

Her sigh was resigned, and her parent smiled at her, knowing full well her answer.

"I'll get right on it, Dad."

She almost felt like those would be her last words.

Bulma decided to get this over with as quickly as possible. Right after lunch she made her way outside. The man was still holed up in the capsule, making it easy to find him.

This time around there were no sounds coming from within. A feeling of deja vu hung over her as she knocked gently on the door.

This time she didn't have to wait long. The steps inside were quick. With a swoosh she came face to face with the prince once more.

His arms were crossed over his broad chest. The Saiyan sported the usual frown, eyebrows crashing downward angrily.

The young woman gave him as good as she got. She frowned back, trying her best not to growl. Bulma didn't have to try hard to look displeased herself. There was something about his mug that always irritated her to no end.

She was the first to break the tense silence.

"I heard you've been breaking more of my father's robots again."

Not exactly what she should have started the conversation with, but Bulma could never resist upbraiding people when she believed they deserved it. And the Saiyan definitely fell under that category, often.

The usual tick appeared on his forehead, but he didn't say a word.

Bulma placed her hands on her hips. "I'm here to try and make sure that you stop pestering him with all of your stupid demands. He's not getting any younger, you know."

There came another tick, but still silence. Bulma was becoming a little unnerved by his behavior. Usually by now they were involved in a screaming match. Or at the very least she expected him to shut the door in her face.

Without a word the Saiyan moved to one side. Bulma blinked, but took the silent invitation, stepping inside. She felt more than a little uneasy about bearding the lion in its den.

The young woman hid her disquiet beneath a veil of anger. Those aliens could smell fear a mile away.

The door quietly closed behind her. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. Instead she gazed about the GR. It was awhile since she was last in the capsule. Since the Saiyan installed himself full time within, she hadn't set foot inside.

On the tiled floor his heavy tread sounded like an anvil.

She watched as he came within her peripheral view. He walked over to the control panel, clicking a few buttons absently. He kept his back to her.

Bulma sternly reminded herself that she was a Briefs. They never backed down from a challenger, not even an alien with a history of murdering people by the millions in cold blood.

Hands on hips, she lifted her chin high. "So what are these new droids that you want made?"

He turned, glaring at her out of the corner of his eyes. She stared back, unfazed. After living with him for this long his glare bounced off of her like a rubber ball.

"The droids I've had to deal with are sub-par. If this is the best this planet has to offer it's no wonder no one has bothered to conquer you."

His voice dripped with condescension. The young genius reminded herself to count to ten before speaking. Screaming at him wouldn't get this done any faster.

"And you think you have some better ideas for new droids?"

He reached for a pile of papers sitting to one side on the console. Turning, he held them out to her.

Curious, she came forward and reached out, taking them from his grasp.

Giving the Saiyan one confused glance, Bulma quickly skimmed the drawings and scribbles that covered the sheets.

Her eyebrows rose as she came to the realization of what exactly she held. They were detailed, hand-drawn pictures of the drones he had been using, as well as captions pointing out ways in which to improve them.

With such specs there was no problem in figuring out what he wanted. What was more, there were specific computations describing how to achieve the better results.

"Wow..."

Mouth gaping open slightly, the young woman lifted her gaze back to him.

He had a self-satisfied look on his face, obviously delighted to have surprised her so. Too impressed to be offended by his smug attitude, she began shifting through the entire stack.

Bulma was fully aware that the man came from a civilization far advanced from Earth's. They were well experienced with space travel, something humans had only just started using.

Still, she never expected him to be so knowledgeable about such complicated algorithms. From what little she knew, the Saiyan race weren't the most intelligent. They tended more to the physical than the mental.

Yet here in from of her was proof that this particular alien not only had vast knowledge of mechanics, but could those skills to improve upon already existing designs.

Bulma grudgingly admitted that even with her vast experience with electronics, this was almost above her level of comprehension.

"Where did you-"

She stopped mid-sentence, noticing that the man was no longer next to the computer board. Head whipping around, her eyes grew large when she found him standing right next to her.

Her body straightened in response as he leaned forward, invading her personal space.

Those onyx eyes bored into her own, unreadable in the fluorescent light.

Bulma felt like her feet were nailed to the floor, the rest of her body paralyzed along with them.

Her eyes fell on his lips, and unbidden memories of their last encounter came to the fore. She felt her face heat up. His nostrils flared, as if he sensed her slight arousal.

Their noses were almost touching, each staring into the eyes of the other. Her brain frantically flew about, trying to make sense of the situation and for a solution.

The organ abandoned her completely, leaving her to fend for herself.

One gloved hand rose, cupping her chin gently as he angled her mouth to his. This kiss was the opposite of before. She was the one unresponsive against his soft onslaught.

Rather than rough and painful, he didn't press his advantage, coaxing her with soft pressure to join in.

With a soft sigh she threw abandon to the wind, pushing back and deepening the contact.

As soon as she did he pulled back. His mouth was upturned in a smirk.

"Now we're even."

With those three words he let her go, walking back to the control panel and effectively dismissing her from his presence.

No words came to her lips, her usual smart mouth having left with her brain. The only thought running through her mind was that she hadn't wanted the contact to end...

Bulma jerked, coming to her senses. This was _Vegeta_ of all people, for crying out loud! A lone thought nudged at her that she should be angry, offended even at his caustic methods of revenge.

Instead the only emotion that arose was confusion, at both him and her for their actions. Rather than stand there and dwell further, she chose to flee from the stifling air of the GR.

She stopped just outside the door, so close she felt the air move as the portal close behind her. Bulma reached a shaky hand up to her still tingling lips.

The Saiyan was a menace to her mental health.


	3. Sneaking Around

Usual Disclaimer: I own _nothing_...At least regarding Dragon Ball

A day late, but life things happen and I get distracted easily...

Chapter 3 – Sneaking Around

Bulma was a woman who appreciated a good sleep.

Not that she'd been able to enjoy much lately.

The weary woman trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. Her high-heals clicked on the wooden floors.

At this time of night no one else in the building was awake. With bleary eyes she glanced at a clock on the wall. Well passed midnight read the hands.

With a large sigh she reminded her feet to keep moving forward. Her white blouse and dark pants were slightly wrinkled. She had her jacket flung over one shoulder.

The white hallway seemed endless tonight, but finally her door came into sight.

The portal opened on well-oiled hinges, light flooding into the dark room from behind her.

The young woman flicked on the light switch. Flinging the expensive jacket on the bed, she trudged into the bathroom. Another flick and the white tile lit up. She squinted against the glare and got down to the business of cleaning herself up.

Twenty minutes later she emerged with a large towel wrapped around her body, feeling much better.

Her wet hair lay limply over her shoulders, her face flushed pink from the shower.

With a deep sigh she sat down on the soft mattress. The feathers dipped beneath her light weight. Rubbing a smaller towel against her wet strands, she stared out the windows of her room.

One whole wall was made of glass, two doors leading out onto a balcony. Beyond that was the enormous lawn that encompassed the Briefs compound.

Previously she had enjoyed just such a view, but not anymore. Not since a certain round object became permanently parked right in the middle of it.

She glared fiercely at the dark outline. Within was the current bane of her existence. For the last several nights both the noise and lights coming from that large pod had completely destroyed any chances for sleep.

Her father was a brilliant engineer, but not even he could have planned for Vegeta.

The walls were thick enough to withstand a trip through space, but not enough to completely muffle the sounds of his training. While the neighbors and the rest of the compound were out of earshot, her room had the misfortune to be the closest to his pod.

From the noise that floated through the air, Bulma would have thought a firework display was going on inside the small building. Booming and blasting tended to echo through the air at irregular intervals.

The young woman brushed aside the memories of her last two encounters with the alien who lived within. Those kisses were whims on both their parts, nothing more. Hers was nothing but pent up sexual tension, his a need to punish her back for taking such liberties with his person.

That still didn't stop her from thinking about how good a kisser the Saiyan was...

With a growl she threw the now damp towel to the floor, annoyed with herself for letting him get to her.

A sudden loud bang emanated from the building, as if to put the final nail in the coffin.

That was the last straw. Her night was already ruined by the most ridiculously long and boring meeting to ever occur. Now she was being subjected to a front row seat to the sounds of World War III emanating from her yard.

Bulma quickly came to her feet. Her closet door loudly banged open. With frenetic energy she pushed aside garment after garment. Bulma was intent on only certain clothes.

While black wasn't usually her color, it would be perfect for her plan tonight.

She dug out a black sweater and jeans. From an old bag she withdrew a black ski cap as well. Throwing the clothing on the bed, she stripped off her towel and quickly got on her underwear.

The clothes were a little baggy, but they would be perfect for the job she had in mind.

Dragging a small tool kit from under her bed, she checked herself once in the mirror, nodding in approval at what she saw.

With quiet footsteps she crept out of her room and back down the hall. Grateful that no one else was around, she made for the back exit, the one closest to the capsule.

Even in the dark, Bulma knew her way around the house like the back of her hand. It was where she was raised, after all.

Arriving at the portal leading outside, she took care to flip off the porch light. With the house black, no other light would illuminate her form as she made her way around the yard.

The door opened without a sound as she slipped outside. Without wasting any time, Bulma made straight for the GR, careful to look around for anyone else about.

The lawn was completely empty. Not surprising at this time of night.

Her sprint brought her up to one side. She made sure to avoid going near the entrance, just in case the person inside decided to exit. What she was looking for was closer to the opening than she would have preferred, but Bulma didn't have a choice in the matter.

There was light spilling onto the lawn from the capsule windows, but not enough to expose her to anyone passing by. There were the usual noises coming from within as Vegeta used his usual ki blasts.

With a nervous glance at the entrance some five yard away, she got right down to business.

With agile fingers she pried open a small door, displaying a set of controls. Setting her bag on the ground, she pulled out a flashlight.

With ease, having worked with her father more than once on the invention, she began to tinker with the wires within.

Bulma had one goal in mind. One that would insure that she would no longer have to worry about getting a good shut eye.

She was going to put a curfew on this damn thing. After ten o'clock at night the machine would automatically shut down. Not even the controls within would respond to any commands.

The man inside would no doubt throw an ever loving fit, but she would convince her father to allow her to try and fix it.

Not that she would.

Bulma figured she could stall long enough to get at least a few weeks worth of peace and quiet.

Just as the engineer was about to finish the final timer to command the computer to begin the new sequence tomorrow night, a sudden glare of light from nearby caught her attention.

She was concentrating so hard on her task Bulma hadn't noticed that the usual blasts from within were stopped.

Light footsteps and a familiar shaped shadow appeared and she did the first thing she could think of.

Leaving the tools where they were, she dropped to her knees, crawling under the large machine. She didn't stop until she was in the very middle, breath coming in heavy pants. Flattening herself against the cool grass, she waited.

With large eyes she watched as a pair of well-muscled legs encased in spandex came down the ramp, making their way around the sphere. As if he knew where she had been working, his feet brought him straight to her discarded items.

From her viewpoint Bulma watched him stand there for a few moments. Only the lower half of his body was available, so she had no clue what he was doing.

He bent down enough to give her a view of one white gloved hand reaching down to pick up her screwdriver.

Her intelligent mind raced around like a rat in a maze, trying to find a way out of this mess.

"Woman."

And the rat promptly came to a dead end.

Maybe he was randomly talking to some other earthling in the area...?

"Come out woman, or I'll drag you out by a broken limb."

Nope. He was definitely speaking to her. And if she didn't crawl from her hiding place she would bet he would make good on that threat.

With a resigned sigh she got back up on her hands and knees. Deciding to put as much distance, and obstacles, between them as possible, she made a detour to come out on the other side of the ramp.

He glared at her over his shoulder, one hand still holding her tool.

A guilty flush spread up her neck. Her outfit wouldn't help her explain her way out of this situation.

She tried not to look intimidated. Chin tilted upward, she met his gaze unflinchingly.

Purposefully he held up the screwdriver, making sure her focus was on the item before he spoke.

"What were you doing?"

His tone was menacing and she gulped down a surge of fear.

"Just...Just some repairs my father asked me to do."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't lie. There is nothing wrong with the machine."

When in doubt, hide behind a furious facade.

Her tone was indignant at his third degree. "How did you even know I was here? And don't tell me you heard me. Not even Saiyan ears are _that_ good."

Bulma was surprised to actually see Vegeta look away. He almost looked...embarrassed.

He shook his head as if to regain himself. With a hard glare he refocused on her with startling intensity.

Instinctively the young scientist took a step back. Her body recognized a threat, even if her mind refused to acknowledge it.

Carelessly he dropped the screwdriver to the ground and advanced.

Her animal instincts told her to run. So she did.

Turning and taking a few short steps were all she had time for. An iron bar of flesh wrapped around her middle. Rough fingers covered her mouth as she thrashed in his grasp.

She gasped as her feet suddenly left the ground. Together the two of them floated upward into the sky.

With a vehement cry against the appendage stifling her, she moved wildly, trying to get away from whatever he was planning. Her arms were pinned to her sides, unable to even grasp him for support.

Within a short amount of time they were well above the capsule, and then the entire complex.

At this height she would end up a human pancake. Knowing it would gain her nothing, she stopped her struggles.

His breath tickled her ear as he finally spoke.

"No screaming. Is that understood?"

Mutely she nodded her head.

Slowly, in case she was lying, he removed his hand.

The young woman didn't bother. At that distance in the air the act would have been useless anyway. No one would have heard her.

Bulma was petrified in his arms. Her usual bravado had disappeared along with the sight of her home.

His hand moved down to curl around her upper abdomen, right beneath her breasts.

Her breaths came in stuttered gasps, her eyes glued to the bright lights far below.

He regained her attention by pressing her closer. The warmth of his body was in stark contrast to the cool air of the upper atmosphere.

His form curled around hers intimately. Her bottom was cushioned against his muscled thighs. His broad back surrounded her smaller form. Her head lay in the crook of his neck.

Shocked and embarrassed at such close contact Bulma squirmed a bit, trying to put some distance between their bodies.

Instead the movement allowed him to settle her even closer.

Vainly trying to ignore how amazing it felt against him, she lashed out with her typical irate attitude.

"Wha-What are you doing? Take me back down now!"

Rather than obey he flew them up several feet higher.

She squeaked in terror. "Stop it, you idiot!"

There was a low growl in her ear. "Woman, you are in no position to be giving ME orders."

Knowing that he spoke the absolute truth didn't make it any easier for her to accept. Bulma Briefs was nothing if not used to being in control.

Still, she took a few deep, calming breaths, willing herself to look at the situation like a scientist; cool and collectively.

When she spoke her voice was much less high-pitched. As usual she got straight to the point. "What are you going to do?"

When he didn't answer immediately her breath hitched. What if he was really going to drop her? Up until this incident she hadn't seriously considered him a threat to her personal well-being, but now...

Maybe he was going to let her hang there for a few seconds longer and then let go. He would gleefully watch as she fell, shrieking, to her death. The picture in her mind was so real that her body shivered in terror.

His gruff voice interrupted her depressing thoughts. "Why were you out here?"

For a moment she was confused. Why had she come out in the first place...?

And did he really bring her all the way up here just to scare her into a confession? The absurdity of the situation caused her temper to flare.

"Fine. You really want to know?" She tilted her head enough to look glare at him out of the corners of her eyes. "I was going to program the GR to shut down every night because SOMEONE won't stop training and let me sleep!"

His body tensed, and for a second Bulma believed she had gone too far.

Her and her big mouth would finally be the death of her.

When his grip loosened Bulma bravely waited for the inevitable plunge into empty space.

The thought that maybe the Dragon Balls could be gathered and used to resurrect her was at this moment of little comfort.

His arms shifted, sliding down her body. With powerful muscles he grasped her waist and turned her to face him.

Instinctively her arms came to wrap around his shoulders. If he did drop her she wasn't going to go down easily. He would have to pry her off of him first.

Her pride wouldn't allow her to face him with nothing less than a glare on her face.

They stared each other down for a few quiet, tense moments.

When nothing happened she grew more nervous, which made her more furious. She gritted her teeth together.

"Well?"

For a moment surprise robbed him of all speech.

Then a wicked grin slowly spread over his face.

Bulma felt a thrill of fear tingle down her spine. Maybe prompting him wasn't such a good idea...

She only had enough time for that thought when suddenly his arms released her.

"Ah!" Her fingernails dug in to his skin through his clothes as she hung in the air.

Arms at his sides, he smiled evilly down at her as she desperately tried to keep her grip. A Saiyan she wasn't, and her own body weight was quickly becoming too much for her to handle.

A growl erupted from her throat as she caught the look on his face. The ass was enjoying watching her hold on for dear life. In retaliation she purposefully dug her nails in deeper, eliciting a hiss of pain from her torturer.

He instinctively shrugged his shoulders to loosen her grip. The movement did more than he anticipated.

Her fingers fell completely away. With a loud scream Bulma fell through the empty air.

She scrunched her eyes shut as the wind blew about her, ruffling her hair and clothing around her body.

This was it. After all of these years of dodging death on her adventures she was finally going to bite the big one.

Her life flashed behind her closed lids. Everything from her journeys with Goku all the way to Namek were blurred visions.

Tensed against the awaiting onslaught of her body hitting the ground, Bulma let out a loud, surprised cry when a warm pair of muscled arms wrapped around her still falling form. One went behind her shoulders, the other under her bent knees.

The wind whipped her hair around, obscuring part of her view as she continued her descent. Vegeta's face was mere inches from hers, his black eyes boring into her own.

Her own wide blue ones stared back. His lips were thinned in an annoyed expression.

The movement of her body was suddenly stopped as he used his energy to defy gravity.

Body shaking from the experience, she chanced a glance over her shoulder. The ground was a mere yard away, close enough for her to easily pick out each individual blade of grass in her yard.

Goosebumps from more than the night air sprang up along her arms. So close. She had been that close to death. The feeling was not a pleasant one.

The warmth of the body against her own was too comforting to ignore, even if it was Vegeta. Even if he was the one who did that to her, she couldn't help but cling to him.

Quivering, she folded herself into his larger form, finding solace in the solid feel of him. Her arms slid around his back as she felt tears sting her eyes.

The drops fell, making slow tracks down her cheeks.

She sniffled. "You-You jerk," she mumbled against his shirt.

Bulma emphasized her point by softly hitting her forehead against his chest.

He grunted, but didn't push her away.

Gently they dropped the remaining distance to the ground. Her terror subsiding, Bulma slowly removed her arms, pushing at him to indicate she wanted to be let go.

The young woman was rather shocked he hadn't dropped her already. She was a filthy human after all, no matter how useful she was to him at the moment.

With a gentleness she didn't even know he possessed, he put her down so she could stand on her own. Her legs shook for but a moment as she locked her knees, willing herself to get a grip on her shattered nerves.

Taking a deep breath, she took a peek at him through her bangs.

He faced away from her, arms folded in their usual position across his chest. On his face he wore a scowl.

Taking a few more deep gulps of air, Bulma calmed herself down even further. Bringing her hand up, she pinched the bridge of her nose. A headache was beginning to form from all of the stress she'd gone through tonight.

Right now she wanted nothing more than to slide into her bed and sleep for the next few days. But then this entire ordeal would have been for nothing. There was still her problem with his training schedule.

And in a way she felt guilty for trying to do something behind his back, asshole or not.

There had to be some way for this to be resolved peacefully. A compromise. Wasn't that what she had to deal with at almost every Capsule Corp. board meeting?

If nothing else she was going to have to be the adult in this situation. Hell would freeze over before Vegeta would consent to 'lower himself' to be the first to offer an olive branch.

"Look," Bulma was pleased her voice sounded so calm, "I know you aren't really fond of me, and heck, I don't care much for your attitude either."

His eyes narrowed a fraction, meaning he was actually listening to what she was saying.

"But I really do need to get some sleep and you need your training. So I have an idea, _if_ you're willing to stop for a few days-"

He turned his full glare at her, but she was so tired it didn't even slow down her speech.

" _And then_ ," she continued, "I'll have the time to sound proof the gravity room."

The man snarled. "Why should I care whether you rest or not? My training is more important than your snoring."

Bulma let out a loud sigh of frustration. You could always count on Vegeta to make things difficult.

"If you weren't such an insensitive _ass_ , you would realize you aren't the center of the universe!"

He growled. "You are more stupid than I expected if you think I'm going to stop my training because of your problem."

Believing the conversation was over, he turned to leave back to the GR. Her voice floated over him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"If you think I'll quit, you're wrong. Tonight's attempt will just be a warm up. So you can either cooperate with me now, or we can have this conversation again later."

Vegeta gritted his teeth in agitation. The Saiyan had a sneaking suspicion she would follow through on that threat. One would think after his half-way attempt on her life that she would be scared to death of him, but no, not her.

Grudgingly he was forced to admit the woman was as stubborn as himself. She would not only rise to the challenge, but probably exceed his expectations for deviousness. Next time she might just try to do more than turn off the room for a few hours.

"How about I throw in some new robots to sweeten the deal?"

That caused him to pause. The last ones were delivered only a week ago. The woman had followed his designs quite closely, while also making some improvements of her own.

The problem was that with his training regiment they were already beginning to show signs of weaknesses. They were no longer able to keep up with his speed like before and his continual wear on them was causing their aim to be off slightly.

Repeated Saiyan punches tended to do that to machinery.

While the old man was a brilliant scientist in his own right, he was flighty, like his wife, prone to putting things off for long periods of time.

If the woman were to make him ones, however, he could expect them quickly, and upgraded to fit his specifications, like the last ones.

The offer was almost too good to pass up. He couldn't resist pushing her a little further though.

"I want them ready by the time you're done with the gravity room."

Bulma gaped at him. That would mean pulling several all nighters. Even then the time table would be close.

She squinted her eyes at him. Oh, he was testing her, was he? Well, she would show him what this beautiful genius could do.

Besides, afterward she could allow herself several days of sleep without interruption.

"Deal."

With a nod he agreed. Without a word the irritating man went back inside his pod. Bulma waited for the room to begin humming as he went back to training, but surprisingly nothing happened.

A little shocked he wouldn't take the chance to needle her some more she went to pick up her discarded tools.

As she went back inside, Bulma mulled over the complex algorithms and planned the best way to get the material to the gravity room first thing in the morning.

Upon reaching her room, she dropped the bag on the floor and fell face-first into the mattress. The next few days would be a nightmare of assembling parts and ordering people around, not to mention having to interact with the resident jerk again.

The deep sigh was muffled into the soft sheets.

All of this just so she could get a good night's rest.


	4. Party

Disclaimer: Again...I own _nothing..._ except my cats...

A/N: And here's another chapter. Must get more written or I'm going to run out...

Chapter 4 – Party

To say the other day haunted her would be an understatement.

A reoccurring nightmare involved her falling from anything her unconscious mind could dream up. More than once in the following week she would jolt awake, body sweating and breathing hard.

There was nothing she could do to stop those horrid visions, but at least during the day Bulma was able to rid her mind of such thoughts.

By tomorrow night their compound would be alive with music and the laughter of normal people. People who didn't fly or generate power at their fingertips. Nope. These would be honest to goodness ordinary humans.

Every year it was the custom of Capsule Corp. to host a celebration of its founding.

There was much in the way of preparations to be done. Aside from that, getting Vegeta's order done and in time allowed her less opportunity to dwell on the experience.

Instead, Bulma focused on the party and on any nasty thoughts she could come up with, aimed at a certain disagreeable house guest.

At least her mother was a great help getting all of the decorations, food and the guest invitations sent out.

Really, there wasn't too much for her to do with the army of hired help her parents always employed for the occasion.

That left her the day before the planned event with little to do but doddle around in her laboratory, working on idle projects. There wasn't the time to start a large, new one before the party tomorrow.

With her penchance for not being able to stop once started, she didn't dare begin a new experiment. Her work was her obsession, Bulma ruefully admitted to herself.

Even her relationship with Yamcha was suffering with the schedule she'd set for herself.

Though she had spoken with the young man only yesterday, they hadn't gone on a date in weeks.

Both of them were beginning to feel the strain. She was always occupied with the latest project, and he was busy with his baseball career. Not to mention his on and off again training for the androids.

Ever since the young man was revived, the two of them had fallen into an easy routine together, like nothing had happened.

While the both of them were very fond of the other, Bulma couldn't help but feel that something was different. It was almost like they were playing roles, ones that felt stale and old.

For years now the two of them had been a couple, fighting and loving intermittently.

But Bulma was not willing to let their relationship drift apart. Maybe she was being selfish on her end, but to her Yamcha was a steady rock in her life that she wasn't willing to let go.

"Ouch!" A rogue electrical wire stung her finger. Agitated, she sucked on it, sternly reminding herself to pay attention.

At least tomorrow night would be one filled with laughter and excitement. The former she could use, the latter not so much.

People streamed into the main doors of the Capsule Corporation headquarters. Elegant cars with just as elegant passengers passed to and fro on the road bordering the compound.

Indoors the main ballroom was full to bursting. One one side sat the buffet tables, piled high with food and drink. Another nearby area was filled set up for seating. The rest of the floor was taken up with people milling about, greeting one another. An orchestra was setting up in a corner.

Bulma and her parents stood at the entrance, welcoming everyone to the yearly event.

For what felt like the millionth time the young woman greeted yet another guest. This was the part she dreaded the most, having to stand here for what felt like forever greeting an endless line of people.

At least it gave her the opportunity to show off her stunning new outfit.

Donned in a beautiful aquamarine, the gown hung on spaghetti straps off of her shoulders. The soft material fell enticingly over her breasts and down her hips, ending just about mid-thigh. She wore two-inch high-heals, done in the same color and with straps that wrapped around her dainty feet.

With a smile, she remembered Yamcha's appreciative reaction earlier. With a telling look in his eyes and a goofy smile on his face, Bulma knew how he felt even before he'd opened his mouth.

It was several minutes since she'd seen the fighter. Soon she would have to go and look for him. The last thing Bulma wanted him to feel was that she was neglecting him.

A twinge of pain shot up her legs, reminding her that it was about time to get off her feet, at least for a few minutes. After that she would see if she could entice Yamcha into a dance.

By now almost everyone had arrived anyway. With a quick promise to her mother that she wouldn't be long, Bulma made to exit the ballroom.

Crossing the room through the crowd was a chore in and of itself. Sometimes Bulma stopped to talk to the guests and sometimes the guests stopped her. The entire trip took half an hour. By then her feet were killing her.

On the way out, she stopped by the refreshment table, taking a quick drink of the excellent champagne they were serving.

Through a set of side doors, she quickly made her escape down a long hallway.

On her face she wore a contented smile. For the first time in awhile she felt relaxed, being able to forget about androids and Saiyans and anything else that had to do with the world getting destroyed.

Taking a card out of the tiny purse she carried, Bulma swiped it through the door lock. With a small beep, she entered her temporary sanctuary.

Beside the main building, the atrium was by far the largest. Filled with flora and fauna of all kinds, the place was a welcome paradise. The Nameks had been quite fond of the area when they stayed there previously, but now it was rarely utilized.

The area was dark, none of the fluorescent lighting being turned on at this time.

But for right now, it was the perfect place for her to relax. Heading to a nearby daybed, she sat down on the soft cushion with a relieved sigh. Bending over, she was just about to take her shoes off when a shadow caught her attention.

Eyes narrowing, in the light of the stars she made out a familiar outline lying several yards away in the midst of one of the larger fields.

Vegeta? Bulma cocked her head to the side. She had no clue he ever used this area. Then again, for tonight there was no where else for him to go.

For the party the GR was temporarily relocated to the very back of the complex, out of the way of prying eyes.

Even with the sound-proofing Bulma accomplished, that didn't mean that she could quake proof the ground. His continual training had the tendency to move any nearby buildings.

Due to the amount of people running everywhere that day, she doubted the Saiyan had managed to get in a workout. Someone would have noticed him. He was notorious for avoiding any humans, let alone a bunch of strange ones setting up for a party.

Feeling curious, she stood up once more, ignoring the protest of her aching arches.

There was a cement path leading around the copse of trees that separated the two areas.

Besides the clicking of her heels, the only other noise was the chirping of a nocturnal song bird. The rest of the animals were all bedded down for the night.

Around one point she lost sight of him. The field coming back into view, Bulma half expected the spot to be empty, him having left to avoid her presence. To her surprise he was still in the same position.

He lay on the grass, eyes closed and arms crossed behind his head.

His usual blue tights were almost black in the darkness.

She stepped off of the path, heels sinking slightly in the grass. With a huff she decided to forgo the footwear, slipping them off quickly before continuing.

Bulma was almost ready to believe he didn't know she was there until his frown deepened. Other than that, though, the man didn't acknowledge her presence.

Not at all put off, she sat down on the grass next to his prone form. She allowed herself a few minutes of quiet, surprised how soothing the air felt between them. The scientist studied the stars overhead as she allowed herself to relax for those few moments.

Just when she was reminding herself that she had a party to get back to, he spoke up. The man didn't even bother to open his eyes.

"What do you want?" It was amazing how much annoyance he could put into just a few words.

Bulma smiled mischievously. "What if I said I just liked your company?"

That made him look at her, his head turning slightly. He scowled. "Don't toy with me. Neither of us enjoys the company of the other."

The young genius frowned down at him. "Now that's not entirely true. Sure, you can be a jerk most of the time, but you aren't always that bad."

The prince sat up so fast Bulma jumped. She could see the tick in his forehead, his usual sign that he was pissed off.

"Jerk? If you weren't useful to me, you pathetic human, I would destroy you this minute for such insolence!"

Bulma couldn't help but roll her eyes. Typical Vegeta speech.

"Alright, Mr. Badman. We all know you're a tough guy. I for one don't believe you would do that, though."

It was one of the few times she was a witness to surprise on his face.

Truth be told, she was a little shocked herself. While she believed what she said wholeheartedly, for the life of her she couldn't pinpoint any specific incident that would prove her words true.

Sure, ever since he'd arrived on Earth after the battle with Frieza he hadn't killed anyone, but there was really nothing stopping him from destroying them all except his urge to fight the androids.

The Saiyan had no love for anything, except maybe himself.

And truth be told he could probably get along fine without her inventions, so his excuse about using her was pretty flimsy, not that she ever called him on it. His past was a ruthless montage of killing and destruction, something not easily dismissed.

But something deep inside told her that from this man, she had nothing to fear.

He shook his head. Bulma thought she heard him mumble something about 'crazy earth women'. Standing, he made as if to leave.

For some reason, she didn't want him to. A few notes of music floated through the air. The dancing must have started in the ballroom. A sudden, crazy idea entered her mind.

Reaching out, she grabbed one white gloved hand.

"Wait."

Pulling his hand away quickly as if burned, he growled low. "What is it now, woman?"

Standing, she put on her most playful voice. "Would you care for a dance?"

He face-planted into the ground in shock.

Sputtering, he rushed to his feet. Veins were popping up all over his forehead in his agitation.

"As if I would _ever_ deign to-"

Bulma held up a hand, stopping his mid-tantrum before he really got warmed up. He shifted so his back was to her, still huffing.

"Well, how about we make a deal then?"

He didn't turn to face her, but she knew he was listening.

"In exchange for a dance, I'll do something for you." Bulma winked at his back. "Within reason, that is."

His shoulders hunched. "As if I would...Vulgar woman!"

Bulma couldn't help but giggle a little at his reaction. He was so easy to get embarrassed, it was too funny. She even saw that his ears were red with his blush.

There wasn't anything the genius could pinpoint on why she was trying so hard to be friendly with him. Sure, the man looked a little lonely, out here all by himself, but it certainly wasn't pity that was driving her.

Maybe she just felt the need to show him that there was more to life than training and battles. The man needed to loosen up a bit and enjoy himself. From what she'd seen he never seemed to have any fun, even when he was getting his own way in the GR.

Leaning forward, eyes glistening mischievously, the genius put forth a proposition that she knew he couldn't resist.

"What about if I promise to fix the GR, immediately, whenever it breaks down. No complaints, no waiting."

She was fully aware of how tempting an offer that was. If there was anything Vegeta cared about, it was his training. He was obsessed with becoming a Super Saiyan. Right now the Gravity Room seemed the best bet for that to happen. After all, Goku used the machine right before becoming one himself.

Too bad the man was terribly hard on the equipment. Almost once a week he was managing to break something within the capsule.

Right now her father was primarily in charge of fixing in such instances. That meant Vegeta was forced to wait a few days of no training between repairs.

With her swiftness and talent, he would be back to his normal regiment within hours.

His back was stiff as he thought over her proposition. She could tell he was annoyed that she was able to offer him something so tempting. To rely on anyone else for anything went against his grain.

The man was a loner through and through, one who wanted to rely on his own strength. In a way she could sympathize. Whenever there was a project or idea she wanted to figure out, Bulma tended to try and work it out herself, without any outside input. Sometimes she would have to end up asking her father or someone else, but only after many days of figuratively beating her head against a wall.

Then the young woman couldn't help but feel that, even though the problem was solved, she still hadn't succeeded. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the help, but somehow she was disappointed in herself for not being able to do it on her own.

Squaring his shoulders, he suddenly half-turned toward her.

The scowl on his face, while angry, showed a certain resolve that told Bulma he had accepted her offer.

"Fine, but not here."

Before she could ask what he meant, he was reaching for her. Two strong arms lifted her, heaving her over his shoulder in the most ungentleman-like fashion.

"Hey!' Fists balled, she beat on the hard muscles of his back. "Let me down, Vegeta!"

Without answering he took to the sky. She watched as her shoes disappeared from sight as they lay in the grass.

There was a missing piece of glass in the dome that they quickly went through.

For a moment they hung above the grounds, then, head forward, his ki came to life around both of their bodies. Within a blink of an eye they were moving toward their destination.

The air whipped around them. In moments her hairstyle was completely undone.

Too late, Bulma remembered the promise she made to her parents to be right back to the party. That was definitely being postponed. Not to mention the dance she'd planned to have with Yamcha.

His speed was not terribly great, but for her weak human body the strain was enough.

Arms wrapped tightly about her middle and legs, at least her dress wasn't being torn by the rush of air. Or worse, pushed up to expose her underwear.

She ducked her head, trying to make her form the least resistant to the wind. With a tight grip she clutched at the back of his spandex. Her eyes were shut tight against the force of air rushing by.

The air was cool against her skin, making her cling closer to the warm Saiyan beneath her. The trip lasted all of ten minutes, more than long enough in her mind.

His speed slowed down before he stopped in mid-air, pulling up so that she was once more riding on his shoulder. She blinked her eyes open.

Bulma breathed a huge sigh of relief. Her irritation was apparent in her voice. "Did you have to choose to fly? We could have just taken a vehicle."

He ignored her. Sinking down gently through the air, Bulma took the moment to exam the terrain below them.

A dense jungle met her gaze.

The area he was aiming for was a small opening in the trees, just the size of a large room.

His feet landed confidently on the ground. Before the scientist could demand him to do so, he was putting her back solidly on her feet.

The hands on her waist retreated as quickly as possible. Taking a few steps back, he crossed his arms in his usual defiant stance.

Feet bare, Bulma felt the lush grass beneath her toes. Around them the only sounds were the noises of nocturnal animals, going about their nightly business.

Feeling relaxed by such beautiful scenery, she almost forgot their purpose for being there.

Of course Vegeta was never one to beat around the bush. "Well? Get on with it."

Exasperated, Bulma rolled her eyes. He made it sound as if she was going to put him through some type of torture. "Why did we have to come all the way out here anyway?"

Eyes glaring at a nearby tree, he didn't answer

It might have been her imagination, but Bulma thought she saw his cheeks stain a light shade of red.

Could he be...embarrassed?

She smiled widely. The man was too proud to admit that he didn't want to chance anyone else seeing them. While the atrium was off-limits to the guests, that didn't mean someone couldn't see them from outside. They were allowed access to certain parts of the grounds.

Bulma chose not to press her advantage. He might change his mind about their deal.

With supreme confidence, she stepped up to him, hands held out, reaching for his shoulders. His personal space invaded, he took a step back, frowning at her appendages.

He obviously had no clue how this worked.

Trying hard not to smile at his innocent response she teased, "What? Afraid the little human is going to hurt you?"

The Saiyan hissed through clenched teeth. "Tch." Looking away, arms still across his chest, she took that as a sign to continue.

Walking right up to his rigid figure, she gently grabbed his gloved hands, pulling when he wouldn't budge.

"Oh, come on. We can't do this unless both of us touch the other."

His eyes narrowed at some place in the distance, but Bulma found his arms relaxing. Maneuvering his muscled appendages, she placed one on her hip. The heat of his palm bled through the white material covering his hand, spreading along her clothed hip.

That caught his attention. He looked at her. For a moment she caught sight of the confusion and unease behind his masked facade of indifference.

Then it was once more hidden behind a scowl. "What are you doing?"

With the patience of a saint, she explained, "A gentleman's hand goes here and," taking his other, she slowly interlaced their fingers,"the other does this."

In the dark Bulma couldn't be sure, but she thought a blush graced his cheek bones.

Reaching up, she gently touched her hand to his shoulder. The muscles were taunt beneath her fingers.

The young woman was used to dancing with a great number of people at various social functions. She had even taught Yamcha how to.

Still, none of those past experiences compared to this.

A thrill raced up her spine as the digits on her waist flexed. The fingers entwined with her own were large, much larger than her own delicate ones.

For a man who was scarcely taller than herself, he seemed to dwarf her figure. His broad shoulders took up her entire view.

Bulma felt overwhelmed by his presence. Like a firecracker, he seemed to hold a great power within, just barely held by his tight rein of control.

For a few moments there was a tense silence between them. Neither seemed to know what to do or say to break the standoff.

Used to being the good hostess in charge of making a party work, even with a group of strangers, Bulma was the first to speak.

Her tone was light. "Well, now comes the hard part."

His brows furrowed in confusion, then narrowed once more. "Just get on with it."

The genius couldn't resist the smile that graced her lovely face. He was putting on a brave front for someone so completely out of his element. It was almost...cute.

Rather than tease him, though, she chose to do as he demanded.

"There's a rhythm to this. Just follow what my feet do and you'll do fine."

Immediately he looked down at her bare toes. With slow movements, she began to shift subtly from side to side. His own were like dead weights.

Bulma gave him an encouraging smile. "Come on. You have to move too."

He snorted, but did as she bid, his gaze never leaving her dainty feet.

His physical training came in handy for more than simply beating up others. With ease he was able to copy her steps. Within a few minutes they were both gliding about the clearing, dancing to a silent tune.

With a large grin on her face, the young woman looked up at him. Having memorized the steps, he raised his eyes as well, catching her look. Black met blue and held. Something stirred between them, like a bolt of lightning that passed from one to the other.

Somehow everything was different now between them, the two of them knew it.

Neither dared put voice to the feeling, both of them afraid that to do so would make it all the more real.

And then the moment passed. Nearby a large bird let out a loud scream, diverting her attention elsewhere.

Feeling suddenly very shy and embarrassed, she looked anywhere else but at him, even as they continued to circle the small, open area.

Finally, she came to a halt, and he followed suit.

Laughing nervously, she reluctantly pulled away from him. Vegeta's arms fell to his side as she stepped back a few feet, creating a space from each other. For some reason being so close was making it hard for her to focus.

Trying to hide her unease, Bulma flashed him her best fake smile. Clasping her hands behind her back, she rocked forward and back on her heels, attempting to give the impression of nonchalance.

He huffed, crossing his arms again as he looked away.

A response to typical of him. Bulma felt relieved, fearing that somehow he would act differently after that moment between them.

"You aren't too bad a dancer," she teased him, giving him a wink. "I'm sure you'd make a killing as an instructor."

His eyes rolled heaven-word, as if asking a deity for patience in dealing with her.

Content to know that they were still on the same terms, she allowed herself to relax once more. Overhead the stars moved onward, reminding her that the night wasn't getting any younger. She would need to get back to the party soon.

A ping of regret flickered through her chest. This moment, she truly believed it had been special, and would stake her life on it never happening again. It was a bittersweet thought.

"Well, I should be getting back."

It was the only hint he needed. Stalking forward, he was about to lift her in the same style as before, but her hands held up stopped him.

"Oh no. Not that again." She grimaced. "You're shoulder is really hard, did you know that? I"m not riding like that again."

For a moment she could see the wheels turning in his head as he came up with another idea.

Fully believing he would carry her bridal-style, this time she allowed him to come close enough to grasp her.

Too bad a moment later she found herself tucked underneath one arm, like a bag of luggage.

Gasping in outrage, she struggled futilely. "Not what I meant!"

He ignored her, taking off into the sky once more.

The headwind was murder on her hair, which was a complete mess by the time they reached the Capsule Corporation compound once more.

With indelicate handling, he promptly dropped her next to her waiting shoes.

She landed on her hands and knees, getting grass stains on the lovely dress. "Ow..."

Before she had a chance to berate the barbarian, he was hovering above her once more.

His stare was intense, as if to get his point across with even more clarity. "Don't forget. You made a deal and I expect you to keep it, woman."

Not even waiting for a response he was gone, flying up and out of the dome.

Sitting on the grass, as disheveled as if she'd been through a wind storm, she watched him leave.

Huffing, she cursed Saiyans and their lack of manners. Then a small smile crept over her face, remembering how enjoyable the night had turned out to be, and how unexpected.

Humming a happy tune, she stood, bending to pick up the discarded footwear.

Flinging them over one shoulder, she made her way to the nearest exit, intent on cleaning herself up and rejoining the party.

Her heart felt light, her steps even more so.

All in all, not a bad way to spend an evening.


	5. Illness

Disclaimer: I own no Dragonball in any form

Author's Note: And here's another chapter. Must write for or I'm going to be running out eventually...

Chapter 5 – Illness

Bulma had never felt so terrible in her life. Or at least, that was how her feverish mind saw her current physical state.

It was day two of her head cold, and the young woman was miserable. Her nose was stuffed to the point she couldn't taste a thing. Her throat was sore and hurting from all of the mucus running down from her sinus cavity.

A loud sneeze interrupted the silence of her bedroom. Reaching for a tissue, Bulma bemoaned her fate.

She groaned as her head thumped with pain.

Taking a deep breath with her mouth, she blew her nose with a loud honk.

Spent, she threw the tissue with the rest of the large pile in the small garbage can next to her bed. Sighing, she leaned back against her pillows.

The genius stared at the curtains shielding her from the bright sun outside.

Being so ill so soon after the party was depressing. She didn't even have time to enjoy the after-glow of being the center of attention before the symptoms started.

She put the blame squarely on a certain alien.

All of his flying about with her was what caused this. Bulma was sure of it.

Glaring daggers in the direction of the GR capsule, she grumbled to herself until her headache worsened.

The medicine she'd taken earlier was clearly wearing off. Time for a refill before she felt the full brunt of her symptoms.

Throwing aside the covers, she left the warm cocoon of her bed.

She wore her usual pajamas, a spaghetti strap shirt that reached mid-stomach and a pair of short shorts.

Her body was covered in a slight sheen of sweat from the fevers that started the night before.

Usually the young woman wouldn't stand being in such a state, but right now she couldn't get up the energy to care, much less do anything about it.

On unsteady legs she made her way to the bathroom. Flicking on the light,she took one look at herself in the mirror and groaned. She looked like death warmed over. Not a pretty sight for someone who usually took pride in her appearance.

With an angry huff she ripped open the medicine cabinet door, making her reflection disappear. By now she was very familiar with where the bottle she needed was.

A few minutes and a couple aspirin later, she wandered back into her bedroom.

The sight of a certain Saiyan had her stumbling backward, hand held over her heart.

"Ack!"

He was leaning against the wall to one side of her doorway. Arms were crossed over his chest. The portal itself was slightly ajar. Light from the hallway spilled into the darkened room, reflecting off of his still form.

Bulma tried to calm her heartbeat. Groaning, her body sagged against the wall. The man knew nothing of manners.

But right now she was too tired to deal with this, with him, right now.

Her voice was much more nasally than usual. "What is it, Vegeta?"

He didn't mince words. "The room is broken again. Fix it."

Belatedly she remembered the deal from the party. Her promise was already coming back to haunt her.

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she begged. Already she could feel her fever spiking again.

His eyes narrowed as his arms fell to his sides. "You made a deal. I expect you to keep it."

She brought up a sweaty hand to feel her forehead. The skin was hot to the touch. Already thinking was beginning to be difficult. Her mind was falling back into the fog of illness.

Her voice was tired. "I know, but..."

He didn't wait for her to finish, cutting her off with a slashing motion of one hand. "Tch. I can tell how much your promises are worth."

The Saiyan made as if to leave the room.

"Wait!" Bulma held out a hand, stopping his movement. "I'll go..."

With one last longing look at her comfortable bed, Bulma made for her large, walk-in closet. At least she could feel the medicine beginning to kick in. That would make this a little more bearable.

There was just no way she would let the Saiyan believe she wasn't a woman who kept her word. For some reason Bulma wanted him to think of her as a human with honor, though for the life of her she didn't know why.

Her nose reminded her that she was still sick by leaking a bit. Walking over to the end table, the young woman took a moment to loudly blow her nose, completely ignoring the probably disgusted man behind her. At the moment she didn't care about his sensibilities.

A tickle in her throat swiftly followed, causing her to give a weak little cough.

Throwing the used tissue away, she got herself moving again.

Silently cursing stubborn men, she took a few steps toward the closet door, until her shaky legs caused her to stumble.

Rather than her knees hitting the carpeted floor, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Instinctively her hands covered the ones larger ones curled around her hips.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening as she saw Vegeta right behind her.

The look on his face was even more annoyed than usual.

"Uh, thanks." A lame reply, but Bulma really couldn't come up with anything more eloquent at the moment.

Feeling embarrassed at both his nearness and her lack of energy, she moved to get out of his embrace.

Instead of letting her go like she expected, his grip tightened.

Another turn of her head and she was looking into his black eyes. "I can't get ready if you don't let me go."

Those dark eyebrows narrowed even further, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

Before she could utter another word, she was being hefted into the air. Within a few seconds she found herself sitting squarely in the middle of her bed, the mattress bouncing a little bit beneath her sudden drop.

He was making his way toward the door.

"Hey! Wait!"

The man stopped, but didn't say a word.

Half formed thoughts ran through her clouded mind. She didn't know what was going on. Why had he put her here again?

"Um, just give me a few minutes and I'll be downstairs."

He snorted in disbelief. "Forget it. In your condition you would do more harm than good."

Bulma bristled. It wasn't her fault she was sick! "Now wait a minute, mister! I-Hey!"

Vegeta was already walking out the door, not even waiting for her to finish.

The portal closed solidly behind him, leaving her flustered and angry.

Of all the nerve! First he comes in here ordering her to fix the machine he probably broke and then he goes and tells her to forget about it?

She shook her head. His behavior made no sense! Unless...

A rather ridiculous idea sprang forward, no doubt brought on by her fever. Had he changed his mind after seeing how sick she really was?

She blinked and voiced the question aloud to the empty room. "Did he actually do something...nice?"

No way. When she felt better a more reasonable explanation would no doubt come to her. Until then...

With a sigh, Bulma snuggled under the covers of her bed, giving in to the blissful oblivion of sleep.


	6. Accident

Disclaimer: I own not one iota of Dragon Ball

Author's Notes: I just wanted to thank everyone who's been reviewing. I do indeed look at them (often) and appreciate them very much.

Chapter 6 – Accident

This had to be the worst illness she'd ever experienced in her life.

A dry cough exploded from her aching lungs. It was quickly followed by friends. For the next several minutes she tried to get a breath in-between the hacking.

Finally the spell ended. Wearily Bulma lay back against her pillows. A week of this was already past. Even more worrisome was that she was getting worse, not better.

She really should take her mother's advice and see a doctor, but her stubborn nature wouldn't allow her to get the help.

The young woman kept insisting that she would get better sooner or later. The later was definitely what was happening.

During her convalescence she found herself sleeping during odd hours, and for varying lengths of time.

Sometimes she would wake up and find her mother there with a bowl of soup or a warm drink.

What was most surprising was that the Saiyan prince was being almost patient, at least for him. Vegeta hadn't shown up since that day to demand she fix the GR. Her father was still the one fixing the gravity room, which meant a slow process.

Her mother was playing nurse to her illness, bringing her food and assorted medicine.

Waking up from another of her restless naps, her blurry eyes scanning the familiar surroundings.  
Even forming an idea was difficult. Half-thoughts and disjointed memories struggled to come together in her mind.

The room was dark, the curtains opened and outside the stars shone in the night sky. The gravity room was pitch-black, not a light to be seen from the port holes that faced her bedroom.

Very unusual, that. But Bulma was well aware that the computer was malfunctioning and her father wasn't able to fix it. Vegeta almost never stopped training after all, except to sleep and eat, and she knew from information from her mother that the Saiyan had already accomplished both today.

During her dinner hours earlier, Mrs. Briefs kept up a steady stream of conversation, bouncing from one topic to another.

The one she finally decided to finish with wasn't much of a surprise to her daughter. Both of her parents were very impressed with their guest, even despite his rude behavior and unsociable attitude.

"...and the boy just looked simply tuckered out! That's the first time I've ever seen him with bed hair!"

Taking a moment away from the nourishing soup steaming in front of her, she gave her mother a dry glance. The last thing she wanted to be reminded about was the man who she was currently shirking on a deal with.

Regardless of his earlier words and her condition, she still felt as if her promise had turned into a lie. Already so long since the party and nothing to show for it from her end.

"Well, you know how much that boy loves to exercise," her mother blissfully continued as she spooned more soup in the younger woman's bowl. "He wasn't terribly happy about the room not working, but your father simply had to leave for that conference for the next few days..."

Her attention on her food, Bulma's head snapped up. "Wait," she interrupted, "are you telling me that dad won't be around to fix the GR?"

Ignorant of her daughter's sudden change of mood, she nodded. "Oh, yes. It's that same get-together he goes to every year at this time." The older woman leaned in. "Between you and me I think he just likes to go for the hot springs."

She gave Bulma a conspiratory wink. Getting her to feet, she gathered up the extra dishes, piling them high on a large tray. "Now dear, finish that soup and get some rest."

"Oh, and Yamcha called earlier to see how you were. I told him you were doing better, but still needed to rest. He sends his love."

The young woman barely paid any attention to those last words, too focused on Vegeta and the training machine.

Since then she'd managed one nap, but now sleep eluded her. Guilt ate at her, giving her an uneasy feeling in her gut.

That feeling gave her more energy than she'd had all week.

With a determination born of a stubborn will, she flung the covers aside. Throwing some work overalls and a dirty shirt on, she laced up a pair of heavy boots.

The tool box she always kept in the closet was picked up and in a few minutes Bulma was walking quietly down the hall. She was careful to make as little noise as possible. Her mother would only get in the way of her plans.

She felt a familiar tickle in her throat. Hurrying her steps, she made it to the back door and out into the night air before she gave in to the feeling.

Feeling like she was coughed up a lung, Bulma told her body to keep moving forward once more. The GR loomed over her.

Praying that Vegeta wouldn't be around to get in her way, she typed in the usual pass code and entered the capsule. Peaking her head inside, the woman made sure she would be alone.

Not a soul in sight. Breathing a sigh of relief she flicked on the lights. Her head was beginning to ache something fierce, but Bulma ignored the pain and headed straight for the control panel.

The Saiyan was always overloading the system, so that was the first problem she would check for. Setting down the tool box, she pulled out her trusty screwdriver.

Four screws later and the lid was off. Just as she guessed, the circuitry was fried completely. A whole new board would need to be put in.

Loosening a few of the wires, she pulled at the control panel. The miscellaneous circuits and cords held strong against her feeble strength. Illness had made her muscles weak and limp.

Bulma groaned, giving a harder tug, feeling the component come out a little more. Just a bit and soon she would have it, she was sure of that.

Putting one foot to brace against the consul, she decided to give one last attempt. If that didn't work she would call it quits for the night and start back up in the morning.

Her muscles bunched, ready to take that one last tug.

Mentally readying herself, she let loose her last bit of energy. The metal groaned beneath her fingers as the knuckles turned white.

With a sudden jolt the wires tore free, sending her sprawling backwards in a roll of parts and jumbled limbs. Several feet later she came to a stop on her back.

Her breath came in labored gasps as she stared at the ceiling. For several moments she couldn't even get her thoughts together enough to think about moving.

Minutes later she flexed her muscles, wincing when they ached in response. Using all of her stubbornness and determination she commanded her body to obey and rise.

First her knees and then shakily she climbed to her feet once more. Sad though she knew it was, Bulma was immensely proud of herself for accomplishing what was usually such an easy task.

A small laugh escaped her lips, followed by a sigh of relief. First one step and then the other, she made her way toward what was left of the control panel. There were parts here and there, but the main portion was still intact.

Bending over slowly, she lifted the piece of metal. Her eyes scanned what lay in her hands. On the surface nothing looked wrong, except for what her tumble had caused.

A sudden tingling on her skin and Bulma was looking around the room in confusion.

The air felt slightly different. A red glow overcame the entire room. With horror, she watched as the main machine kicked in. On the screen there appeared the number one.

Her already overtaxed body immediately felt slightly heavier. Her liquid legs buckled underneath the additional weight. Bare knees hit the hard metal floor. Her arms braced against the ground as she fell forward.

A low groan erupted from her throat. Gasping breaths escaped from her overtaxed lungs. A dry, hacking cough followed, robbing her of a few precious moments to solve the issue.

Lifting her head shakily, she watched as the number changed from one to two. This time she couldn't even keep her form off of the floor. With a loud thump she hit the metal floor on her stomach, limbs splayed about her.

The young genius knew that she needed to get to the panel as quickly as possible, or her body wouldn't last long under the pressure. While Vegeta was easily able to take over one-hundred times Earth's gravity, she was a normal human woman.

Her mind was positive on what to do, but the problem was that her nervous system wasn't able to follow her instructions. Illness and her lack of physical activity in the last few months was adding up to her staying on the floor.

Who knew how long until the machine went to the next stage, and then the next. Doing the math quickly, Bulma was able to come to the conclusion that she wouldn't survive five times the normal gravity.

Eyes squeezed shut as she tried to focus on any type of plan that would get her out of this dangerous situation. Nothing was plausible, so long as she was stuck where she was.

Tears glistened in her eyes and fell down her cheeks in two steady streams. The futility of the situation hit her hard. This seemed like the time when her luck was about to run out. All of those adventures and life-threatening situations, only to be killed by one of her father's inventions.

The irony wasn't lost on her. The air became even heavier and she gasped. She couldn't even lift her head now, though what was well aware of what she would see. The room was now at four times Earth's gravity. Soon it would rise again, and she would be crushed under her own weight.

Her cheek was pressed against the tiled floor, a small pool of salty tears her pillow. Any moment now and the machine would kill her.

Mentally she braced herself the best she could as the seconds ticked by. That was why it was so much more shocking when the room lit up with a blue light. A loud explosion sounded in front of her, in the vicinity of the control panel.

Small bits of debris scattered around her, a few bouncing off of her prone form.

The heaviness dragging her down was gone in an instant.

Relief washed over her entire body. Like a limp noodle she sagged against the floor. After such a strain her consciousness was on the edge of abandoning her.

Blinking rapidly, her eyes strained against the urge to close. In her field of vision she saw a metal wall and a small billow of smoke wafted through the air. Her nose caught the whiff of singed metal and burned wires.

Somehow the panel must have been destroyed, that was the only reasonable explanation for the gravity to no longer be functioning.

Unexpectedly a pair of familiar boots filled her sight. Unable to lift her head, she continued to stare, trying to figure out exactly what had happened and why Vegeta, of all people, was looming over her.

There was the shuffle of clothing and he knelt beside her. A gloved hand grasped her chin, accomplishing what she could not as the appendage raised her head.

The Saiyan's eyebrows were crashed together, forehead furrowed. His lips were down-turned in a deep scowl. While a stranger might have seen simply an angry man, Bulma, with all of her experience with him, was shocked to discern concern in those black pupils.

They searched her face, then roamed over the rest of her thoroughly. Dumbly she stared back at him. When he finished his perusal he caught her gaze once more.

She could have sworn he mouthed her name, but her senses were fading fast, along with her consciousness.

Unable to hold on any longer, with a deep sigh she went completely limp in his grasp, falling into a deep sleep in an instant.


	7. Out of Commission

Disclaimer: I own nothing...for now...

A/N: cringes* I know, it's been way too long, but life got, you know, lify.

Chapter 7 - Out of Commission

The sleep was like a deep pool, and she was at the bottom trying to swim her way up.

When Bulma was finally aware enough of herself, she immediately wished she hadn't woke up. Eyes popping open, she stared blankly at the white ceiling. The pain was all encompassing. Every muscle in her body ached, even parts she never knew she had.

Breathing hard, she tried to still any movement. Even the deep gulps of air were a strain. Her fingers twitched uncontrollably, gripping and letting go of the sheets, then repeating the same process.

For what seemed like hours she struggled. Finally her form obeyed her mind and went limp. Her limbs lay at her side.

With supreme relief she sagged into the mattress beneath her, wincing only slightly as the springs shook a little under her weight, jarring her.

Her mind tried to figure out what caused this unexpected fatigue. As if covered in a fog, bleary memories raced across her mind. She remembered going to the capsule and then working on the control panel. Then there was the red glare of the machine turning on...

Groaning, the scientist recollected the weight of her own body beneath the weight of the heavy gravity. How stupid of her to get caught in such a dangerous situation. At the moment she couldn't figure out what she'd done wrong, but obviously fixing the machine wasn't something she should have attempted in such a state of mind.

But then how was she still alive again...? That part was the fuzziest. There was an explosion and then...Nothing was popping up to explain why she was here in her bedroom.

Sighing, she placed that problem aside for later.

Getting her bearings, Bulma looked wearily around her bedroom. Even in the dark she recognized the familiar shapes of her furniture.

Turning her head one way, she found that a chair was been placed beside her bed, only a few feet away. It was empty at the moment.

The curtains were pulled, just as when she left her room to go to the GR. From how black the room was, she guessed that night had fallen.

Vaguely she wondered how long she was asleep.

A voice in the darkness near gave her a heart attack.

"You idiot."

Her body tensed up once more and she grimaced, her breathes coming out in little gasps. Squeezing her eyes closed, she missed the lone figure step out of a shadowy corner.

An eternity later and Bulma was able to relax once more as her body and the pain calmed down to manageable levels.

Squinting, she took in the sight of Vegeta at her bedside, looming over her. His arms were crossed over his chest, mouth turned down in a deep frown.

He wore different clothes than usual, jeans and a dark blue shirt with a white one underneath.

When she did nothing but stare at him in confusion he spoke again.

"You idiot," he repeated, his voice was rough and tight, barely holding back a wave of emotion.

Bulma blinked up at him. "What...?"

One eye twitched. "You tried to remove the control panel without _turning off_ the machine."

Well, that explained why the gravity turned on. The young woman felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment. Of all the foolish mistakes, that was by far the easiest to avoid. Or should have had she been in the right frame of mind in the first place.

A remembrance of boots and Bulma realized Vegeta was the one who saved her life.

Turning her head away from his accusatory stare, she muttered, "Thanks, you know, for blowing up the machine and stopping the gravity..."

Still, it was so surprising that the man would destroy the very mechanism he lived his life around, just to spare her own. His enmity for her, and everyone else, was easy to see. Bulma very much doubted he had any high regard for her especially. She always seemed to annoy him more than anyone else, except maybe Goku.

The Saiyan grunted in reply, which was better than she was expecting. Some churlish words about how she didn't deserve his assistance was more along the lines of what she thought she'd hear.

Even more shocking was when the man sat down in the empty chair, folding one leg over the other and for all intents and purposes looking like he was going to stay awhile.

The blue-haired woman stared in open curiosity.

He caught the silent question written on her face. "Don't get full of yourself," he told her gruffly. "Your sniveling mother wouldn't leave unless I promised to stay in her stead."

Throat parched from lack of water, she swallowed a few times as she tried to form the words that begged to be asked.

That didn't matter, for she was shocked into silence when he reached over to her bed stand. There sat a glass of water that had gone unnoticed by her. Grabbing the beverage he stood up and then perched on the very edge of the bed.

His free hand reached down, cupping the back of her head. With wide eyes, she felt him lift her up slowly as the glass came to her lips. He began to tip the glass and she was required to focus on the task of drinking, instead of just staring at him in shock.

If she had been able, Bulma would have scooted away. Never in their time together had he ever initiated any contact between them, at least nothing aside from grabbing her.

But this...This seemed almost kind.

After a few small sips he pulled the drink away, giving her time to swallow everything before bringing it back. The glass was half empty by the time she was satisfied. Without any verbal cues from her, he seemed to know when she'd had enough.

With a gentleness Bulma didn't know he possessed, he laid her head back down on the pillow. The plunk of the glass on the nightstand was loud in the quiet room. She couldn't keep her eyes off of the outline of his form, searching for his eyes. Maybe if she saw them, the young woman could figure out why he was doing all of this.

By all rights shouldn't he be blaming her for him having to ruin the machine? Though her father could fix it, that would take several weeks as the parts were very hard to manufacture.

This moment between them felt delicate, as if a single word would break whatever was happening.

Still, she couldn't help but try and get him off of the hook. It didn't seem fair that he should have to babysit her. Even though she wasn't able to move, that didn't mean she wouldn't be alright alone for awhile.

"You know...You don't have to do this." Bulma winced as soon as the words escaped her mouth. They were rude, even to her ears. He did get her a drink,after all.

Rather than him bursting into a rage, he looked askance. In the dark she couldn't read anything at all.

After a few minutes, Bulma realized that he wasn't going to offer a reply.

With a sigh, Bulma didn't press him. Whatever his real motives, she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The mattress beneath her moved just a bit, jarring her aching body. A tiny gasp of pain escaped her mouth.

Vegeta's head switched back to her. Her eyes were squeezed shut again, so she didn't noticed as he leaned forward in the chair, eyes intent.

This time her muscles kept contracting, one after another like an avalanche of pain that encompassed her. Her hands clenched in the sheets as a small sheen of sweat started to form on her skin.

A damp towel came down on her forehead, sending a wave of cool relief. Her eyes flew open to see the Saiyan hovered over her. Eyes wide with shock, she was momentarily distracted from her suffering.

His face had a concentrated look, just as when he did anything else. The man was nothing if not dedicated to whatever he was doing at that moment. And right now that intensity was focused on her.

Her mouth gaped like a fish, then a particularly painful twinge started in her calf.

The towel vanished and the covers were thrown back suddenly, bearing her. Thank goodness she was wearing her usual pajamas, but still she felt an acute embarrassment.

While Yamcha had seen her in her in such a state, Vegeta was something else entirely. This was her rude and condescending house guest who was currently getting a good look at her belly and thighs.

A moment later he was grasping the offending leg with both hands.

"He-Hey! What are you doing!"

Her voice was more high-pitched than she would have liked, but this situation was starting to get weird.

"Your mother gave strict instructions to follow," he said as way of explanation.

One strong, large hand held her still, while the other moved to the back, carefully caressing the tense muscles.

The touch was light, but then his fingers clamped down, beginning a rough massage. Her hands reached for him, wanting him to stop, but then the muscles began to slowly relax, and Bulma realized that what he was doing actually felt kind of good after a bit.

With a long sigh she let her head rest again on the pillow, letting him continue his ministrations.

He didn't stop at one leg, either. His talented hands moved to the other calf and then up, rubbing the tenseness out of her thighs as well.

Vaguely the injured woman wondered where he had ever learned such techniques. The thought of Vegeta going to massage classes had a small smile lifting up her lips at the corners.

He caught her grin and stopped his hands in their wonderful work. Frowning, he pulled back and she silently lamented their loss.

Just as Bulma was about to beg that he restart when there was a knock on her door. As if struck, Vegeta jumped up from the chair and took a few steps back.

A light spread into the room as the portal opened. In stepped Mrs. Briefs. The look on her face was cautious and then, seeing her daughter awake, she sprang forward. "My dear!"

Arms outstretched, she made to give the injured woman a crushing hug. Only the large body appearing in front of hers stopped the inevitable pain she would have unwittingly caused Bulma.

"Oh!" She pulled to a stop, looking from one to the other.

The genius was still trying to get over the Saiyan actually caring enough about her welfare to stop her mother's onslaught.

Putting those thoughts aside for later, she gave her confused a mother an apologetic smile. "Sorry, mom. I'm kind of sore right now."

She ignored Vegeta's snort at her understatement. As if 'sore' even came close to her body's current condition.

Mrs. Briefs nodded understandingly, giving her a sympathetic glance. Then she turned to the man before her.

"You've been such a dear. Thank you for taking care of our darling daughter."

"Tch." Without another word he made his way to the exit, but stopped just shy of reaching for the handle.

Her mother had walked up to the bed, staring down at the younger woman with tears of joy in her eyes.

His deep voice floated over to the both of them.

"You will start tomorrow, woman."

With that cryptic statement he promptly left the two women alone.

Confused, the bedridden female looked at her mother, the unasked question written all over her face.

Bunny gave her a wide grin. "Well, I promised the young man that if he stayed with you he could get an extra helping of all of his favorite food every meal."

Bulma felt a sweat drop form. Of course he wouldn't be doing this for nothing. She really should have known better than to think he was that altruistic. The man was an opportunist through and through.

Though even that didn't sound like enough of an incentive for the usually unbendable man. She gave her mother an intense stare. "What else did you say to him...?"

Her mother averted her eyes, a sure sign of guilt. "I did sort of tell him no more food if he didn't stay..."

Bulma groaned. How embarrassing. Her mother was blackmailing and tempting their murderous guest with food.

Still, the genius felt a nagging sensation about the entire interaction with him. Certainly he was sitting with her for ulterior motives, but that didn't mean he was being forced to be, well, _nice_ to her.

There was the water, and the massage. Both of which seemed above and beyond the call of duty, regardless of any instructions her mother might have left.

Bulma shook her head to clear her thoughts. While her mother fussed over her, the young woman dismissed the Saiyan from her thoughts, for the moment.

He was too much of an enigma wrapped in a riddle for her tired mind to figure out. Maybe later she would devote more time to the matter. After all, he wasn't going anywhere.


	8. Invisible

A/N: This is the last chapter I have written (though the ideas are kinda running around in my head). So hopefully will get the next one posted soon.

Disclaimer: As per the usual, I do not own Dragon Ball (any of the incarnations).

Chapter 8 – Invisible

Her recuperation took weeks. Her muscles and bones had been pushed almost to the breaking point, leaving the young woman with a world of pain. Thankfully, with her mother and a wide array of medical equipment and drugs at her disposal, the convalescence took much shorter than she had originally feared.

In all of that time not a single sign of the Saiyan was to be seen. He neither stopped by to check on her (as if he ever would) nor even bothered her about the gravity room. As soon as she was recovered, she expected him to be looming over her, demanding she fix the machine every time it broke.

But even this did not materialize, at least not like the genius thought it would.

Bulma had no idea what his problem was. For well over a month the Saiyan managed to either avoid or ignore her presence entirely. Even when she was around him fixing something, he said not a word to her, beyond a few yes or no grunts.

And what was worse, was that she found his actions so irritating. She shouldn't care that he wasn't around, or paying attention to her. He was a major jerk, someone who every day tried to eat them out of house and home.

She counted out on her fingers all of his many major faults. 'Egotistical, check. Arrogant ass, check. Lightning-fast temper, double check.'

None of these and the many more defects Bulma could think of seemed in the least bit desirable for companionship. So then, in the end, why was she feeling the loss of his presence, his conversations, so completely?

After all, there were other things she should be focusing more on. Her relationship with Yamcha was hitting an all-time low. The last two dates they'd taken to restaurants felt flat and lifeless. Neither seemed to know how to cross the chasm that seemed to be forming between them.

At this point Bulma wasn't even sure if she wanted to try. So that left her with very little social life, and a lot of time to sit and brood. Even with the many experiments needing to be conducted, her focus simply wasn't there.

A small beep went off next to her. By now she knew that sound by heart. Looking askance, she watched the screen light up again on the wristwatch she'd set aside earlier. The item tended to get in the way when she was working on her projects.

With a slow motion, she reached out and grasped the watch as it lit up once more. Bulma already knew what it meant, but she still looked at the message scrolling across the screen anyway.

 _Warning: Equipment Overload. Auto-shutdown engaged_

She was sorely tempted to ignore the side effects to come, mainly in the form of an enraged Saiyan prince coming to bother her to fix the gravity room. With a sigh, she rose, grabbing her tool kit in the process. Might as well get this over with. He was simply going to ignore her again, which would end up pissing her off and ruining her mood even more.

Still, the young genius wasn't the type to ignore her duty, even when it was most unpleasant. She was surprised to see that darkness had fallen outside. Bulma had no idea that the hour was so late. That would probably explain why her stomach was complaining in the form of regular growls.

But there was a job to be done, and it wouldn't be the first time she went without a supper. The lights were blazing from the capsule. She was surprised that the alien wasn't standing in the doorway, hands on his hips while he impatiently waited for her to show up.

Surprisingly the door was closed. She stepped up the ramp and pressed the button, momentarily blinded as the lights from within hit her eyes. Stepping forward, she aimed straight for the control panel, not even bothering to see if Vegeta was even still around.

Setting down the bag, she got right to work running a diagnostic on the machinery. A small shuffle came from the side. With a glance, she saw the man in question leaning against a nearby wall, arms crossed over his chest.

She got right back to work again, when it was evident he wasn't going to say a word to her. Typical attitude at this time. That couldn't stop her anger from rising. Fuming, muttering curses under her breath, she furiously went back to work.

Besides the clicking of her fingers on the panel, there was not a sound in the room. The continual silence wore on her already frayed nerves. Not only that, but the computer wasn't cooperating. The usual commands weren't working like they should. Finally, the frustration and prolonged tension between them became too much.

Bulma was nothing if not forthright. She faced everything in life head-on, and this was no different. Slamming the monitoring equipment down, she turned to the current problem facing her. Unreadable black eyes stared back. His face didn't so much twitch as she marched up to him.

With one finger, she pushed against the marble of muscle that made up his chest.

"Okay, mister. I've had enough of this silent treatment. I won't have you treating me like a lowly servant at your beck and call."

She took a few steps back, hands on her hips. "Actually, I'm not going to move one more finger to fix this thing until you tell me why you aren't talking to me."

He stared back quietly, as still as stone.

Belatedly Bulma remembered their deal that she would fix the GR whenever there was a brake down. "Look, it's not like I'm not going to fix it. But can't you at least explain why you're being even more uncommunicative than usual?"

His eyes slid to the side, which she took for him to mean that he wasn't going to speak.

"I might as well be talking to the walls..." she grumbled.

Turning her back to him, she angrily pulled her equipment off the control panel, shoving them right back into her bag. This time taking all precautions, she initiated a full shut-down of the system. When that was completed she went one step farther. On the wall by the door was the main power switch that connected the capsule to the house. With a flick that too was turned off.

Automatically the room went black. A few seconds later the emergency lights kicked in and there was a faint red glow in the room. Now there was no way she could get shocked. Not this time. The generator only sent power to the lights and the door to get out.

Kneeling down, she chose to take the direct approach with this repair. Four screws later and the metal hiding the brain of the computer was out of the way.

Sliding down to her stomach, she inched her way forward, surrounding herself with wires. At least they weren't able to annoy her like a certain Saiyan. A few minutes later and she stood corrected. Like the panel, they weren't cooperating either.

The usual gloves she wore weren't helping, either. They made it harder for her to grasp the smaller pieces. With a frustrated growl she tore them off, tossing them to the ground nearby. The wires were hot to the touch, which should have been her first warning that something was seriously wrong.

Instead, she ignored the obvious and, grasping two separate wires, immediately felt a charge run through her body. The shock was intense, her mouth opened wordlessly in a silent scream. In her lifetime, Bulma had been hurt by electricity several dozens of time. You didn't deal with mechanical equipment without getting a charge every now and then.

This time, though, was very different. This energy, while painful, also had the added effect of giving her a boost of energy. This would usually have given her scientific mind a great deal of excitement, but not now.

Instead, it caused her muscles to contract tighter around the wires. Gritting her teeth, she tried to ride the pain, hoping the electrical would short out. Suddenly a pair of strong hands wrapped around her ankles and pulled. Her body slid along the tile floor and the grasp on the electrical equipment was broken.

Her limbs trembled as they settled back down after the jolt to their system. Vegeta stood over her, arms at his sides. She stared blankly up at him. Closing her eyes, she let the cool floor seep into her as she calmed down. Opening them again, her gaze settled on her benefactor.

There was simply no reason for the wires to have any jolt to them whatsoever. Everything mechanical was completely off. That meant something else must have been going on to cause such a charge to run through the cables.

Rather than words of thanks, Bulma chose to let her anger free reign. Her voice was breathless. " _What_ were you doing in here?"

"Training. What else, idiot."

Anger had her adrenaline rising, giving her an added energy boost. Stumbling to her feet, she used the central panel to support herself. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Tch." An upturn of the lips framed his displeasure accurately. "I was experimenting with ki."

Ki? Oh yes, that power Goku and everyone used to generate their attacks. Being at Master Roshi's so often she'd heard enough to know a bit about how the Z Fighters were able to battle. But never would she have guessed that the energy traveled through electronics, especially with the time lapse between his training and her having touched the wires.

Her curious brain wouldn't let her leave him alone without a few questions. Besides, in her mind she always imagined Vegeta doing punches and kicks, not acting the scientist. "Exactly what kind of experiments?"

Watching her out of the corners of his eyes, Vegeta was given the sight of Bulma's blue eyes twinkling in her excitement, cheeks still red from her shock.

Very grudgingly the male was forced to admit that the human could be passably pretty at times, with her exotic blue coloring. Her temper, while annoying, was also mildly amusing. She could be set off by the smallest, most insignificant things.

Sometimes he would do something just to see how she would react. But right now he wanted to get back to his training. When there was nothing better to do he would goad her once more.

Feigning more anger than he felt, he gave another quick answer. "Working with various ki lengths." He huffed. "Now leave me be, woman."

His stance was unyielding, and Bulma was experienced enough with the Saiyan to know when he was willing to talk and when he wasn't. This wasn't one of his more sociable moods. Shrugging, giving up the conversation as a lost cause, she got back down on all fours in front of the open panel.

"What are you doing?"

Kneeling on her knees, she gave him an answer in the same curt tone he had used. "I'm fixing this machine so I can get back to my real work."

"Tch. Are you planning on getting injured even more? This time _I_ won't help you."

Fisting her hands on her hips, she huffed. "Good. I won't need it this time." A smug smile grew on her face. "Unlike _some people_ , I learn from my mistakes. I don't fight losing battles."

It was an obvious hit against the many battles Vegeta had lost since first coming to Earth.

That set him off. Unfolding his arms, he took a few threatening steps toward her. "If you weren't useful, human, I would kill you right now."

This wasn't the first time the Saiyan had said such words. Bulma wasn't able to take him terribly seriously. She wasn't naive enough to doubt the man was capable, but for some reason she didn't really think him willing, whether she was useful or not.

Reaching up a hand, she messaged her temple, where a headache was beginning to form. Attempting to be the sensible one, she offered a compromise. "Look. How about we just drop it and I get this done? That way we can get out of each others hair."

"Hurry it up." He folded his arms once more, head turning to stare at some unknown point at the far wall.

Taking that as acquiescence, she knelt down once more. This time she put her gloves on and kept them on. The current of ki running through the circuitry obviously wasn't strong enough to get through rubber gloves. In the future she would have to think of a way to make all of the machinery resistant to ki, if that was possible.

A few minutes of silence later and she was done. Sliding back out, she stretched her cramped muscles. Only a quick test to make sure everything was in working order and she could get back to all of the other experiments waiting for her in her lab.

Standing, she first walked over and reengaged the power to the large pod. Next came the central panel and with a flick everything came back on. Taking out her diagnostic equipment once more, she ran a few simulated tests, everything come back ready to go.

"That should do it," she said cheerfully, putting away her gear.

Picking up the bag, she gave him a stern glare. "But try not to break it again too quickly. I have a lot of work to do."

He snorted. "Like I care what you do. Just be around to fix this machine." The Saiyan gave her his back, a clear dismissal.

A sweat drop formed as she stared incredulously at his broad shoulders. Rubbing the bridge of her eyes, she decided she wasn't up for this shit. At this point an argument would only waste her time when it could be better spent elsewhere.

Without another word she existed the gravity room, the door swooshing back into place behind her. Making her way across the lawn, the human mused that at least he was no longer ignoring her.


	9. Bared Feelings

A/N: This is intended as the last chapter to my take on the beginning of Vegeta's and Bulma's relationship. Unless I get some ideas I might add some later, but probably not.

Disclaimer: Own. Nothing.

Chapter 9 – Bared Feelings

Bulma was getting used to the tears. They tended to come at night, when there was no longer any work to distract her from the dismal thoughts waiting at the back of her mind.

Curled up in her bed, she would let the moisture trail down her face. She was sure that by the time the session ended, her face was a wreck, but the young woman couldn't get up the energy to care.

It was finally over. Her relationship with Yamcha was ended at last.

On her side she wanted stability, a chance to begin a family. She wasn't getting any younger, after all. As for Yamcha...He very much wanted to follow the same path he'd been leading all of his life. Since his bandit days he'd always been a wanderer, content to let things flow rather than plan ahead for the future. That meant he couldn't be counted on to be there when she needed him.

The decision was a mutual one, built on the understanding on either side that nothing would ever come of them being together. The two of them had finally admitted to each other the truth one night at dinner as they ate at a fancy restaurant.

Bulma was trying to keep the conversation going, which mainly focused around her work. What else did she do these days? She avoided speaking of her Saiyan house guest. The scar-faced man held a justifiable grudge against the alien and any mention of him would put Yamcha into a foul mood.

She was going on about the dynamics of her latest experiment when he interrupted her.

"Bulma."

Said woman stopped, red flags rising in her mind at the serious note to his voice. Taking a deep breath, he reached for her hand that lay atop the table. Holding it in both of his he went on. "Look, I think there's something we need to discuss..."

Her heart skipped a beat. Dread warred with curiosity over his sudden demeanor change. She nodded to say she was listening. His eyes focused on the table between them. "What if I asked you to marry me right now?"

Struck speechless, her mouth opened, but no reply came out. Her mind reeled at the implications. Her and Yamcha, husband and wife? The whole idea somehow had a ridiculousness to it and she tried hard not to laugh out loud. But wasn't that the natural step for a couple to make? Shouldn't she want him to be in her life all of the time?

He sensed her indecision, or maybe it just mirrored his own. "I know, right? Seems kind of hard to swallow. But we've been together so long people would expect that, wouldn't they?"

"Yamcha. I..." Bulma couldn't seem to pull her thoughts together enough to form a coherent sentence.

Thank goodness he had his in perfect order. He must have been practicing this for awhile now. "But I don't think either of us want that, at least not with each other." He gave a painfully fake laugh. "I mean, I can't imagine settling down and having a family, but I've gotten the feeling you might not feel that way."

She frowned. Like he knew her mind enough to guess any such thing. "When have I said so?"

Yamcha grimaced. "You haven't said so in words, but I've seen the way you look at children as they walk by. There's a longing in your eyes."

Bulma blinked, taken aback. Had she really? Children certainly were adorable, and she definitely didn't mind them. There was this ping in her chest when she imagined herself holding one, cuddling and teaching a child of her own one day.

He took her silence for acquiesce. "And I don't think I'm ready for that. Hell, I might ever want to have kids." He leaned forward. "What I'm saying is I think we need to face the facts. We're two different people, Bulma. Not that I don't want to continue being friends," he was quick to add.

She stared at him, the thoughts in her mind churning. Bulma couldn't honestly deny that his words weren't true. Looking back at herself and her emotions, she did want children, and she couldn't imagine them being a married couple together. All of that was in sharp contrast to what she was desperately trying to hold in between them.

For once of the two of them he was being the rational one, she realized. While she kept on trying to make this work, stubbornly keeping the status quo, he watched their relationship change, morphing into more of a friendship than a couple.

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. He was right, but damn did it hurt. This was what she'd been avoiding, this inevitable pain. She gave him a watery smile. "For once, you're right. I...I just didn't want anything to change. You've been a big part of my life for so long."

The young man laughed. "I still will be, just not as your on-again off-again boyfriend." Both of them smiled at that, memories of their fights and reconciliations flitting through their minds.

That was over two weeks ago. They were two very separate people with a shared path. At least that meant the friendship between them wouldn't be changed. Since then he'd called a couple of times to check on her, which was sweet, but at the same time hearing his voice drudged up the painful feelings all over again.

She felt hollow, like a large hole had formed in her heart. Angrily she brushed away a few stray drops as they formed in her eyes. She really shouldn't keep doing this.

Even now, alone in her room, she was trying to tell herself that enough was enough. Their breakup was already a week old now, and still she was reacting like this. It was time she put this behind her and move on.

But move on to what...?

Yamcha was her first and only boyfriend. Bulma supposed she could always try dating. But the very idea of going out with a bunch of strange men made her frown. The genius wasn't sure she had the patience for such an undertaking.

With a sigh she sat up, the large bed swallowing her small frame. The curtains to her balcony were wide open, revealing a starry night. Of course, there would be no moon, having been destroyed years ago.

Angrily she brushed the wetness from her cheeks. Bulma supposed she could always lose herself in her work. There were some ideas that were floating in her mind, many of them revolving around a certain Saiyan Prince and his training.

Still, she doubted that would be enough to fill the whole in her heart. As much as she loved her work, there was still a part of her that would be incomplete. Electronics and wires couldn't love you back, or give you children, after all.

Her stomach gave a growl, and Bulma realized that dinner was awhile ago. Being awake all this time was making her hungry. Deciding a midnight snack might be just the thing to cheer her up, she pulled on a robe over her negligee and made her way into the hall.

At this time of night everything was quiet. On light feet she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Flicking on a light, she made for the fridge, her bare feet padding on the cool tile.

Opening the door, she was met with a cool blast of air. Inside the huge appliance there was enough food to feed an army. With a Saiyan in the house you couldn't have too much. But tucked onto one shelf was a bowl with her name on it.

In spite of her mood Bulma smiled. Her mom had put leftovers aside from dinner just for her, thinking maybe she might be hungry later. The older woman must have done it before the prince came to eat, or that might not have been possible.

Grabbing the container she opened it, taking a deep breath as the smell of chicken and various salads wafted their delicious perfume. Deciding to eat everything cold, she set the meal on the table, stopping at one of the drawers to pull out a fork.

A few minutes later, feeling much better, she was munching on a chicken leg when the outside door suddenly opened. In came Mr. High-and-Mighty, looking fit to be tied. The vein in his forehead was up and pounding and his scowl was deeper than usual.

He was heading for the chairs when he noticed her form in the darkened kitchen. Bulma hadn't bothered with a light. Between the lights of the city and the stars she was able to see more than well enough.

Inwardly the young woman cursed her luck. Count on him to interrupt some much needed quiet time. Stalking over to her she noticed his fists were clenched at his sides. There was a determined look in his eyes that didn't bode well.

"Woman," she vaguely wondered if he even knew her name, "the room is broken, _again_. Fix it."

At times like these she would usually be livid at both his commanding tone and words. Right now, though, she was just tired and determined to finish her meal. Her answer was simple and to the point, "No."

One black eyebrow rose and he paused, as if waiting for her to say more. When she didn't he scowled fiercely. "If you were a better scientist than the thing wouldn't have broken in the first place."

Sighing, Bulma let the fork drop back into her food as she was just about to chew on some lovely looking lettuce. "I don't care what you say, Vegeta. I'm not going to fix it tonight. Get someone else to help you."

That 'someone else' could only be her father, who at this moment was asleep in bed like a normal person would be. Inwardly she cringed. Oh, she must really be in a horrible mood if she was foisting _Vegeta_ of all people on her father. Especially at this time of night.

Those dark, penetrating eyes locked onto her and Bulma looked away. Sometimes she had the eerie feeling the man could look right through her. And right now she didn't want to be analyzed, not when her thoughts were in such a disarray and her feeling so emotionally vulnerable.

Any moment she expected him to either walk up the stairs to get her father or go back outside. When he did neither she snuck a peek at him out of the corners of her eyes. He was still standing there, staring at her with that same look.

Feeling very self conscious, she tried to hide behind a facade of anger. "What? I've already told you I'm not fixing it tonight."

Determined to ignore him in the hope that he would leave, she took another bite of her food, chewing slowly. When he spoke she nearly choked.

"What is wrong with you?"

Those were some of the last words she would have expected to come out of his mouth. The man couldn't seem to see anything beyond his own needs. Food, training, and his beloved gravity room were the only things Bulma ever imagined were on his mind.

Was she really that obvious? It only made her more aware of her hurt to have him of all people be the one to point out her lackluster responses. Suddenly she felt a prickle of tears. Mentally cursing her weakness, she shoved a forkful of food in her mouth and decided not to answer him was the best course of action.

As she was scooping down to get another load there was a bright flash and the room temporarily lit up. A small but contained explosion erupted right in front of her face as the bowl disintegrated to ash. Giving a squeal of terror she flipped backward in her chair, coming to a hard landing on the floor.

Gasping, she looked up to find his arm still outstretched, a faint light of ki at the ends of his fingertips giving away him as the culprit. Untangling herself from the furniture, she rose to a kneeling position as she eyed the charred remains on the tabletop.

All she wanted was to be left alone. Was that really so much to ask? To be allowed a little time to wallow in self pity? Right now she felt like a kite with no string, being blown about by the wind.

Rounding on him, she tried to pin the alien with her most ferocious glare. It was less successful with the tears in her eyes. Her voice was higher than usual. "Would you stop badgering me!"

He lowered his arm, snarling back, "I would if you'd do something right for a change!"

That one, simple sentence was what set her off. Maybe she wasn't going about things correctly. Her life, her job, none of it was working.

Thoroughly ashamed but unable to help herself she burst into great, sobbing tears. Holding her hands to her face, her small frame shook. She was like that for several minutes, not even remembering that there was another person in the room until he spoke again, his tone one of exasperation.

"Stop this. Have you no pride, woman?"

She gave a mirthless laugh and shook her head as she stood to her feet, pushing her chair away with a squeal of wood on linoleum. This couldn't get any worse. Here she was practically falling apart in front of the most uncaring man on the planet.

Making it to her bedroom was her only thought. She was fleeing the scene, waving the white flag, but at the moment that didn't matter.

Taking a few steps toward the door leading to the stairs she was shocked when a white gloved hand grabbed her arm, holding her in place. Futilely she wiggled, trying to dislodge him. When that didn't happen she spoke, her voice crackly, "Leave me alone."

She still hadn't turned around, but Bulma could feel him right behind her. The man's body temperature had to be much higher than a human's. Instead of listening to her, which he never did anyway, there was a tug, gentle for his immeasurable strength.

Not prepared she fell backwards against him. The chest was like a rock. Surprise stilled her for but a minute and then she began to thrash. Two strong arms wrapped around her, halting her movement.

She was confused, tired, and just wanted to leave. What was this man doing, anyway? He _never_ touched anyone, nor allowed anyone to touch him, not if he could help it. Her voice was hollow, "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer. Instead she felt a faint tickling on her throat as he bent forward. His hot breath caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. Bulma squirmed. A faint trace of fear ran down her spine. "Vegeta?"

His gravely voice was deeper, more of a growl. "Are you pining over that pathetic weakling?"

She shivered but answered bravely, "That's none of your business."

The young woman could feel the rumble. "It is if it's going to make you like this."

Huffing, she said. "Because I won't fix your precious GR? Well, tough buddy."

Then she was being turned around so fast her head spun. In the darkness he seemed to loom above her with that spiky hair of his. His face was a vague outline, but those black eyes shone with an emotion she couldn't define.

His jaw clenched. "You little fool." Without waiting for her retort he swooped down, trapping her in a soul-searing kiss.

Her body stilled in shock. Was this really happening? Was the ass of all Saiyans really _kissing_ her? And what a kiss...His lips were hard against her own as they melded together. His tongue snaked out to lick her bottom lip and she sighed. Taking the initiative he delved inside, tasting her.

This had to be wrong, but it felt so right. He was an anchor in the storm. Hesitantly her arms came up to circle around him. When they parted both of them were panting as they stared at each other. There was a faint blush on his cheeks that Bulma found endearing.

Lifting one hand, she brushed a finger along his high forehead. Her voice was quiet, awed. "What's gotten into you?"

Those familiar features hardened and he stepped back and away from her. Reluctantly she let her arms drop, missing his heat already. Turning, he made as if to go but then stopped at her quiet "Why?" His profile was to her.

"Because I wanted to." She blinked and then he was gone, the outside door closing firmly behind him.

A slow smile spread across her face. What a typical Vegeta answer. He gave nothing away, and yet the mere fact he _wanted_ to kiss _her_ was a bombshell in and of itself. She grinned, a swelling feeling of happiness filling her up.

Maybe right now wasn't so much an ending, but a beginning of something even better. Ignoring the burnt table she whistled a happy tune as she went back to her room for a much needed sleep.


End file.
